The Eyes of Justine (4 page)

             
“Steady on,” Roland soothed guiding her down the hall and turning into his classroom, shutting the door behind them as they entered.

             
“Aren’t we going to the staff room?” 
Justine
stood uncertain near Roland’s desk as she rifled through his drawers.  She was all too aware they were alone in a room together as the halls fell qui
e
t; abandoned during this hour.

             
“In a minute.  But first…ahhh, yes, here it is.”
Justine
heard Roland open a bottle and pour a small amount of some liquid into a cup. 

             
She lifted the tumbler he placed in her hand, sniffing, “Brandy?”

             
“Just the thing to sooth frayed nerves,” Roland answered tapping his glass to hers and sipping the amber fluid with satisfaction.

             
Justine
hesitated a moment pondering the propriety of drinking on school hours.  Then, with a shrug, she lifted the glass to her lips and tossed back the brandy in a single gulp.

             
“Aggh!!”
Justine
choked, coughing, as the fiery liquid burned down her throat.  “That’s brutal.” 

             
Roland chuckled, patting her back as her coughs subsided.  “You were supposed to sip it, not slam it
down like a co-ed at a kegger,” as he guided her to his chair.

             
Justine
felt the heat rise in her chest from both embarrassment and the liquor.  “Here,” Roland added pouring more brandy into
Justine
’s glass, “a bit slower this time.”

             
Taking his advice,
Justine
took a minute amount into her mouth savoring the smooth piquancy.  “That’s better,” she admitted as she felt the tensions ease from her shoulders and neck.

             
“So what’s got you so frazzled this morning?”
  Roland leaned his hip against his desk looking down on
Justine
as she sat.

             
Justine
, relaxed by his presence and the soothing effect of the brandy, told him of her troubles and the rather inappropriate comments from her students.

             
Roland paused a long moment before responding.

             
“You can hardly blame them,
Justine
,” he said quietly.

             
“What do you mean?” 
Justine
looked up.  Her jade green eyes zeroed uncannily on him in consternation.

             
“Well, um,
it’s…
well…” Roland stammered, “I don’t know how to say this.  You see,
it’s
that dress, I suppose.”

             
“My dress?” 
Justine
plucked at the neckline.  “What of it?”

             
“Well,
it’s…it’s
quite thin you know.”

             
“And?” 
Justine
prompted.

             
“Well…you…your…well, your obviously not wearing a bra.”  Roland felt the heat rise to his face glad the young woman couldn’t
see
his discomfiture.

             
“Oh my god,”
Justine
gasped.  “Mani picked it out, my friend.  Is it completely inappropriate?”

             
“Not…not at all.  It’s just
, well, a bit sheer.”  Roland went on, “that pale yellow color complements you nicely as a matter of fact.  Only…only without…a bra…your…well you can see the outlines of your…your…well, you know…quite clearly.”

             
Roland was not comfortable with the conversation, shifting nervously on his desk.

             
Justine
, shamed, ducked her head in embarrassment.  “I…I’m so stupid.”

             
Seeing the young woman’s pain, Roland knelt next to her, patting her arm soothingly.  “Its’ not that bad,” he comforted as moisture welled in
Justine
’s eyes, “truly.”

             
“Here,” he suggested, going to his closet, “I’ve got just the thing for you.” 
Justine
heard him rummaging around. 

             
Returning he draped her shoulders with an over-large blue cardigan.  “Wear that if you like,” he suggested, “it should cover you nicely.” 

             
Justine
rose from the chair and slid her arms into Roland’s sweater, wrapping it around her and pushing the long sleeves to her elbows.

             
“Oh, Roland, thank you, thank you.”

             
Justine
leaned forward, her arms going around Roland’s neck as she hugged him tightly.  Roland tensed as he felt her breasts crushed to him.  Her prominent nipples poked him in
the chest and he shivered as he
clumsily stroked her shoulders.

             
Laying her head on his shoulder,
Justine
relaxed into him savoring the feel of his hard body as his hands slid across her back.  “It’s alright,” he whispered into her hair growing very aware of the lithe nubile body pressed against him.

             
Roland struggled to maintain his clinical detachment.  This was a development he simply didn’t need.  Too much was at stake for him to get emotionally involved at this point. 

             
As
Justine
shifted closer her pert mounds rubbed against him, her stomach and hips brushing across
his loins
.

             
Roland felt his resolve weaken as his hands slid lower, pulling her into him with slow pressure.

             
Abruptly, Roland grasped
Justine
’s hips and gently moved her away, “We…we should get to lunch,” he stammered, as her arms slid from his shoulders.  “I’m…I’m famished.”

             
“Yes…yeah…me, too,”
Justine
agreed, “sorry…just a…a bit overwhelmed, I suppose.”

             
“Quite alright,” Roland assured, taking her elbow in his left hand, guiding her toward the door.

             
Roland was barely aware of the conversation as he led
Justine
down the hall and ate with her at their usual table.  His thoughts were on the blond woman across from him, not the words he spoke or her usually entertaining small talk.

             
What the hell am I thinking?
 
He scolded himself. 
She’s just a child, really, only 21 or 23.
That didn’t stop you from enlisting her in your experiments. 
He accused himself.

             
It’s not the same.
  The research is important, vital.  For her as well as so many others.

             
If that’s true, then why not just ask her?  Why the charade?

             
Roland couldn’t deny the truth of that.  Nonetheless his hands were tied.  The people funding his project insisted on absolute secrecy.  If he were to betray that trust, his work would be for nothing; likely he’d end up in some dark hole in a faraway prison to boot.

             
And its not as if I intend to harm her
, he rationalized. 

             
Confused and tangled in emotion, Roland managed to get through the lunch and return to his classroom still arguing with himself.

             
With relief he greeted his students as they filed in, bloated and lethargic from their repast.  The afternoon passed with slow, agonizing tediousness as he tried to fill their little minds with some semblance of knowledge
.

             
His task wasn’t made any easier as the weather outside turned gloomy and a steady, monotonous downpour lulled everyone into a somnolent state.  When the final bell rang, Roland sighed tiredly, barely managing to be civil as his youn
g charges stumbled out groggily. 

             
An hour later, having restored his room to order and prepared his lessons for the next day, he made his way to the staff parking and retrieved his Mini
Cooper
.  The rain had slowed to a soft drizzle that still managed to drench him to the skin through his linen shirt.

             
Muttering imprecations he cranked the heat on high and started out of the lot.

             
Two blocks later a flash of yellow to his right caught his attention though the gray mist.  “Oh, no,” he moaned as he recognized
Justine
walking home in the rain, her cane sweeping confidently in front of her.
 
Behind her a trio of teen boys trailed he
r
; a scant dozen paces behind their eyes locked onto the young teacher. 

             
Her sheer dress, soaked, was nothing more than a slight haze across the nearly nude body beneath.

             
Crossing traffic, he pulled up beside her
,
tapping his horn lightly to get her attention as he leaned across the seat to pop open the passenger door.  “Get in,” he ordered as
Justine
turned toward him.

             
“Roland?”

             
“Yes.  It’s me.  Get in,” he advised again, “you’re soaked.”

             
Justine
approached the open door, her cane tapping out
its
location, “I’m okay,” she answered, “
it’s
only another
couple of
block
s
.  And,” she added, leaning down to him, “I like walking in the rain.”

             
Roland sighed in exasperation, “
Justine
, you silly git.  Your dress is fucking transparent.  I can see everything.  Why didn’t you wear my sweater home?”

             
Justine
clutched at her chest, “I…I didn’t think about…”

             
“Get in,” Roland ordered again, giving the staring boys a hard warning glare as they watched the scene.

             
This time
Justine
didn’t hesitate before sliding into the Mini, pulling the door shut as she folded her cane, tucking it into her valise.

             
Roland stared at her for a long moment, noting with reluctant interest the tantalizingly erotic form of her breasts draped in wet cloth.  Her nipples, hard and swollen from the co
ol rain
, poked out in firm nubbins through the thin material. 
The apple-sized curves of
Justine
’s tits draped in translucent fabric left little to his imagination. 

             
Worse, through the sheer fabric,
Justine
’s white panties were clearly visible even as she tugged the hem of her dress down to her knees.

             
Roland felt his cock twitch as he noted the supple curve of thigh and slender rise of her hips squirming in her seat.

             
“What were you thinking?” he admonished, tearing his eyes away from her with an effort as he put the car in gear and pulled into traffic.

             
Justine
’s choked sobs startled him as she began crying in earnest.

             
“I’m such…such…a …stupid…” she hiccupped between sobs, her shoulders heaving as she cried.  “I can’t…do…anything…
”
the wet waif curled into herself clutching her valise to her breasts as struggled to control her tears.

             
Roland, caught off guard by the sudden tears, didn’t know what to do.  Crying women were a rarity in his life.  He’d no experience in how to deal with the phenomenon.

             
Clumsily he muttered consolation, his hand patting her thigh.  “There, there…
its
okay
…it’s okay”.

             
Justine
, distraught, clutched his hand like a lifeline, pulling it to her breast.  “I’m so stupid,” she repeated again, “I just didn’t…didn’t think…”

             
Roland tried to ignore the feel of the warm flesh
beneath the cold, wet fabric;
failed utterly.