Manage Ellie on your own

The fear in her eyes is so intense you can’t say no.

“OK. Let’s at least get you to my office, and I’ll check you over.”

She’s ****, but she comes. First you gather her books and scattered papers and return them to her bag. Then you help her to her feet. She sways as she stands, and for a moment she tips leaning on you. Her sleight weight makes you want to wrap your arms around her and protect her and hold her close. She’s not a tall girl. There’s little to her. You could lift her up and take her. No, your mind is descending into the gutter again. It’s the aroma of her soap and her shampoo washing away the general fustiness of the school. As soon as she realises she’s leaning against you, she pulls away; her large brown eyes widening at the realisation.

The next thing you know, you are lifting her into your arms. There’s a slight squeal, but she doesn’t wriggle free. Instead she flings her arms around your neck and buries her head in your shoulder. You can feel her rapid breathing, both the heaving of her small breasts against you, and the tickling of her breath. Carefully you carry her. You’re surprised you can carry her at all. You’ve never been that strong, but there’s a determination in you not to drop her, to keep her safe.

You carry her to your classroom, through it, and into your office. There you carefully lower her into the large chair behind your desk. You let go, but she doesn’t. She continues to cling to you, her breath tickling your neck. Only when you start to unwrap her does she let go.

You’re kneeling in front of her, looking into her wide brown eyes, filled with fear.

You take her bag and place it to one side. Then you kneel and look into her eyes.

“I’m going to check you, that OK?” She nods.

You run your hands along her arms, gently pressing her pale flesh, checking to see if anything hurts. She doesn’t flinch. You get her to roll her wrists, to flex her elbows. Her smooth skin in speckled with goosebumps.

Then you move to her legs. You start at the ankles, and help her rotate them, testing out the joints. Then you take each of the legs and guide them as she flexes her knees. Your hands gently squeeze the soft, smooth flesh of her legs and up to her thighs, only stopping when they reach the hem of her short skirt. You’re already feeling inappropriate. All the time you can feel Ellie’s wide brown eyes looking at you, fear now mixed with something just as primal. It wouldn’t take much to just slip your hand up higher and run a finger over her knickers. You almost get the feeling she wants that. But no, you’re a professional. You’re not going to take advantage.

You step away. Take a couple of deep breaths. Then turn to feeling her neck, feeling her head, running your hands through her shoulder length brown hair, just so you can feel her scalp, check there aren’t any bruises.

“I think you’re fine. Do you want to stand?”

She carefully stands up and sways. Your arm reaches out ready to catch her if she falls. She doesn’t.

Just before you let her go, you put your hands on her shoulders and look her in eyes.

“Look, Ellie, I know you don’t want to talk about it. But I believe it would be better for you if you did. So, if you ever do want to talk about it, you know where I am. This won’t stop unless you let one of your teachers do something about it. Understand?” A tentative nod. Her brown eyes are deep and easy to fall into. Her lips just demand a kiss. No, you’re not going to do it. You step away. “I’ll always be here for you, if you want to talk.”

She nods. But that nod is an instinctive thing, the thing she knows you want, so gives because it’s easier than saying something else. You let her go.