Just enough time for just a quick read

Note: excerpt of The Highlander’s Passionate Conquests is written by Manbear.

You let out a deep breath, having held it for the past couple of seconds since the sound of the outer office door signaled the coach’s departure.

“Not the most professional display, Diane” you berate yourself with a slight shake of the head, but with a smile as you’ve remained decent in terms of the appearance as the headmistress of this old institution. Even, as you talked with, and fawned over, the young Brian Watts you had remembered that day years before and all the built up which have taken place in your mind since, you had felt the urge to shed this professional demeanor, and shed these conservative clothes with it.

But you’re the boss, the headmistress of the Pink Rose, and you have a certain responsibility. “And you’re no bloody teenaged girl either,” you mutter and try to push those sexual thoughts out of your head, turning to the next arrival of the new faculty members. The last of the four men who the board has dumped on you this year, the new Dean of Students which you had no involvement in picking out, contrary to the previous three.

Glancing over the information in front of you as you placed the papers on Mr. Kyle Hawkfeather, you shake your head angrily as you remember the past few months. First the board of regents had brought up this crazy and irresponsible idea of adding male teachers to the staff, and then their insistence on this soldier as the Dean. No use going over all of this once more now, and your mind seems to wander from the thoughts of your attempts to dissuade or influence the board these past weeks and months…

The paperwork is ready, with the key for the cottage the new dean would share with Mr. Sharp, and you had gone through the speech three times already. So everything is set and you find yourself glancing towards that drawer on the large desk. There’s still almost twenty minutes until he’s scheduled to arrive you confirm with a glance at the clock, and if the previous three are any indication you could have more than half an hour to wait still.

So, there’s a little time to read a little bit. Just a few pages… plenty of time for that. Right?

You have this little back and forth in your head, wanting to suppress these feelings, this horniness and remain firmly in character before your next meeting… but a few minutes later and the drawer is pulled open and you are once more completely engrossed in The Highlander’s Passionate Conquests.

-

“Back inside lasses!” the woman orders, the MacGregor recognizing her as the sister of the MacKay chief and wife of the warrior Rae, “Help out preparing for tonight’s feast… and leave our guest be!”

Giggling the two girls scamper away, leaving the highlander making eye contact with the young wife of Rae ‘Black-Heart’ Flynn, the man he hated more than any other.

Muireall Flynn felt her heart beat louder than the drums of Urquhart Castle when MacGregor’s eyes roamed over her body like a cat eying a cornered rabbit kit. Unlike her girls, she had seen other men without their clothes; and not just her husband with his hairy chest and corpulent figure who had long-ago given up any attempt to maintain his once powerful body. Muireall had seen men as young and handsome as this bold visitor to the MacKay holdings, but none of them had made her core heat the way the grey-eyed bastard did.

She should turn away. A married woman of her standing had no need to let this insolent swordsman look at her like she was a barmaid in some smoky public house; she should walk away, but she didn’t. Instead she let her gaze linger on his broad chest tanned by the summer sun, comparing it to her husband’s sallow skin. It had been over a month since Rae had climbed into her bed for a brief and unfulfilled nuptial visit, the drunken man had labored to insert his fleshy member into her for a few minutes before he stormed off with a effluence of verbal ****. Not that Muireall had regretted her husband’s abrupt departure, not once in the eight years of marriage had she felt the explosive climaxes that her friends described. But if she had a lover like this…

“Would you care to join me Muir?” Water dripped from his braids and ran in streamlets down the ridges of his abdomen, the rest of his naked torso was almost visible under the water but she pulled her eyes up to meet his sparkling eyes angrily.

“Don’t you call me that, Mac!” Muireall let a little of the fire that she had kept dampened for years flare. “You lost any claim to me when you ran off ten years ago to throw in with those foolish Jacobites.”

“Is it foolish to fight for your dreams?” MacGregor challenged her somberly, and she felt her anger turn to something for more -

-

You read on, losing all track of time as you’re being so completely absorbed in the words and your own fantasies. The image of that rough, bare chested highlander being replaced at one point of the cute youthful coach, standing before you just as that day in the bar following the game, only still wearing the baseball uniform. Part of it at least, as his strong chest glistens in the bars light, fresh from his match winning performance and his presence urging you to fall to your knees before him.

Subconsciously, you have unbuttoned and parted your blazer slightly, one hand fondling one of your breasts and the hard nipple, so sensitive to your exploring fingers as you squirm in your seat, imagining MacGregor doing as he pleases with the women he encounters, and letting the coach do similar to some groupie offering herself up for it… and putting yourself in the place of that naughty girl.

This is the position which you find yourself in as a loud knock breaks you from your reverie.