With a quick kiss

"As you say, M'sieur." She lifts to her toes and brushes your cheek with soft lips before opening the door just enough to slip away. The void left with her departure makes your office feel dull and empty, but you need this peace and quiet to gather yourself together. When Senator Williams had told you that the board of regents were not concerned about casual sex between you and the students, you dismissed the notion as a pleasant fantasy but if Miss DuPessis had stayed even a minute longer you would not have been able to restrain your male libido.

You pick up the cupcake that had fallen to the floor, and after a brief inspection you take a big bite of the pastry. It's good, but not as tasty as Gabrielle's tits. As you finish the treat you reflect on what the pretty flirt had told you about punishment here at the Academy. You are halfway through your preparation for your next battle with Ms. Naylor when another knock interrupts your thoughts.

It is not a good sign when your first thought is that perhaps Gabrielle has returned. You are mostly relieved to find instead, a pretty blonde woman dressed in a short sleeveless sundress. You almost mistake the woman for a student; perhaps 25 years old, she is ablaze with flamboyant swirls of bright reds, oranges and yellows that seem to move even as she stands perfectly still.

"Oh, Hi!" Her smile is as bright as her outfit, and although she tries to appear casual and relaxed, you can tell that her blonde wavy hair has been carefully brushed and her full lips have had a recent application of red lipstick. Like Gabrielle this lovely visitor comes bearing gifts, but in her manicured hands is a small tin of cookies from the local drugstore instead of a classy bakery box. The woman makes no attempt to give you the cookies as she scans you up and down like a hungry cat eying a goldfish. You return the favor, taking in her tanned skin, toned legs and the flat stomach under the swell of her full breasts that are only partially hidden by the low cut top.

"Are you the new dean?" she asks, her hazel eyes narrowing in confusion. You wonder if it the fact that you are wearing a slightly damp T-shirt that has at least a half dozen smudges from your cleaning, or because she wasn't expecting a blond with blue eyes to answer the door.

"Yes," you smile back. "I guess I am." Extending your hand you introduce yourself. "Kyle Hawkfeather." Her hand feels warm and soft in yours, and she makes no attempt to withdraw it after your handshake.

"Monica Fulton." She says as she hands you the cookies. "I teach French and Spanish." You wonder what Ms. 'we have a dress code here at the Pink Rose' Naylor would think of this look from one of her youngest and probably prettiest teachers.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Ma'am." You tell her as she brushes a lock of her blonde hair behind her ear, like Gabrielle, Miss Fulton is clearly used to the effect that her good looks have on men, and not at all afraid to use it when she wants to.

"I see you're making yourself at home." Miss Fulton peeks into the room behind you, "I've only been here a couple years, so I never got the chance to see the inside of Ms. Marshall's dreaded office." The young language teacher is clearly fishing for an invitation to come in, but you have nothing pressing to do and she did bring you cookies.

"Yes Ma'am." You tell her as you step out of the doorway. "Would you like to come in?"

"If you're not too busy. But Kyle," she rests her palm on your chest, "you have got to stop calling me Ma'am. I feel like that old bat, Ms. Naylor each time you do it." She gracefully paces around the room like a dancer on a stage. "What's this?" she asks finding the white box on the desk and makes a sound halfway between a snort and a giggle when she peeks inside.

"Oh my, where did this come from?"

"A Miss DuPlessis," Monica laughs when she hears who the culprit is, but listens with interest as you continue. "We had a little chat about what is and what is not, an appropriate gift for teachers in America." She lifts the old paddle sitting on the bookshelf and you see her hesitate just a second before she traces her fingertips along the dark polished wood.

"Was this paddle part of the conversation?" She asks, and when she sees the surprise on your face she misinterprets your reaction.

"Oh My God! Did you paddle her sassy ass?" You shake your head in denial not trusting your voice at the moment. "But you wanted to didn't you Mr. Hawkfeather."

"Too bad," Monica makes her way across the room her a sexy swing to her hips and places her hands on your shoulders. "That paddle might be exactly what Miss DuPlessis' fine derriere needs. Don't let her and the other rich snobs at this school charm you Mr. Hawkfeather, I hear the Pink Rose was a far better place when Mrs. Marshall was in charge of discipline." Her hands caress your shoulders softly, "Are you going to go old-school on our naughty delinquents, Mr. Hawkfeather? I think you should."

Your patience for being teased has already been sorely tested by the mischievous Gabrielle, you don't need to take it from this young language teacher too.