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Authors: Keira Michelle Telford
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and fills the bowl.
“ Mademoiselle Carriveau .” Rylie digs in her backpack for a notepad and pen.
“Sucking up already?” Gabby snorts. “Why Skittles? Bit odd, ain’t it? I believe tradition states that it’s s’posed to be an apple, yeah?”
Rylie scribbles out a note. “It’s sort of a private joke.”
“How do you have a private joke with our house mum?” Gabby pulls a face. “You’ve been here less than twenty-four hours.”
The bell rings for next class.
Rylie snatches up the bowl and lets Gabby lead the way to their English Language room, where she sets the offering down on Carriveau’s desk, propping the note up in the middle of it.
“You’re gonna get ribbed something chronic when other people find out about this.” Gabby grabs her arm and leads her to a desk in the middle of the room. “They’re gonna think you’re kissing her arse.”
“I’m not trying to win favor, I’m apologizing.”
“What for this time?” Gabby shoves Rylie into the seat next to her. “Don’t worry about the ciggies. She don’t give a monkey’s about that. She never reports anyone.”
“It’s not the smokes.”
“What, then? Your mouth been running off with you again?”
“Something like that.” Rylie organizes her books. “How can I tell if she likes me?”
“Did she tell you off?”
“No.”
“Then she likes you.” Gabby giggles, glancing over her shoulder at someone else in the class before lowering her voice. “Just watch you don’t get Adel all ruffled up.”
“What? Why?” Rylie cranks her neck to peer at Adel in the corner. “What’s it to her?”
“She’s Miss Carriveau’s little pet.”
With the clatter of pencil cases and the crinkle of notepaper dying down, Carriveau breezes into the room, making a beeline for her desk. Upon her entrance, the children stand respectfully, waiting to receive the command to sit.
That command is somewhat late in coming, however, as Carriveau reaches her desk and catches sight of the colorful bowl of candy. She sits, plucking the note from within it.
On one side, there’s a simple apology: Je suis désolée, mais …
She flips it over.
As much as she tries, she can’t fight the smile completely. Nor can she hide the blush on her cheeks, which only intensifies when she looks up and finds Rylie beaming at her.
Incapable of ignoring her hunger for sex, her cunt pulsing beneath her desk, it takes several seconds for her to compose herself enough to clear her throat and bark out the word “Sit.”
While the children settle themselves into their chairs, she crosses her legs, clenching her thighs together, trying not to think about how wet she is. Still flushed, she grabs a wad of papers off her desk and fans herself, making a token complaint about the temperature of the room.
Enthralled by this display, Gabby angles herself toward Rylie and whispers in her ear. “What the shit did you write in that note?!”
Of course, Rylie doesn’t tender an answer. Her own anatomy begins to throb as Carriveau’s eyes meet hers again, and her heart swells to bursting when Carriveau puts the note to one side. She doesn’t throw it in the trash, or hide it away in a drawer, she leans it against a stack of textbooks directly in front of her.
Further appreciation comes unexpectedly when, during a silent period of independent study, Carriveau gets up from her desk and weaves her way through the rows of students, peering over their shoulders to check on the progress of their work.
At Rylie’s desk, without adjusting her pace, she trails her hand over Rylie’s shoulders, from right to left. It begins much the same as their light contact had at breakfast, with her hand making its way up to Rylie’s right shoulder, but this time, she doesn’t stop. She gives a gentle squeeze, then tickles her fingertips over Rylie’s neck, beginning just below one ear and finishing below the other. From there, she slides her hand down Rylie’s left
“ Mademoiselle Carriveau .” Rylie digs in her backpack for a notepad and pen.
“Sucking up already?” Gabby snorts. “Why Skittles? Bit odd, ain’t it? I believe tradition states that it’s s’posed to be an apple, yeah?”
Rylie scribbles out a note. “It’s sort of a private joke.”
“How do you have a private joke with our house mum?” Gabby pulls a face. “You’ve been here less than twenty-four hours.”
The bell rings for next class.
Rylie snatches up the bowl and lets Gabby lead the way to their English Language room, where she sets the offering down on Carriveau’s desk, propping the note up in the middle of it.
“You’re gonna get ribbed something chronic when other people find out about this.” Gabby grabs her arm and leads her to a desk in the middle of the room. “They’re gonna think you’re kissing her arse.”
“I’m not trying to win favor, I’m apologizing.”
“What for this time?” Gabby shoves Rylie into the seat next to her. “Don’t worry about the ciggies. She don’t give a monkey’s about that. She never reports anyone.”
“It’s not the smokes.”
“What, then? Your mouth been running off with you again?”
“Something like that.” Rylie organizes her books. “How can I tell if she likes me?”
“Did she tell you off?”
“No.”
“Then she likes you.” Gabby giggles, glancing over her shoulder at someone else in the class before lowering her voice. “Just watch you don’t get Adel all ruffled up.”
“What? Why?” Rylie cranks her neck to peer at Adel in the corner. “What’s it to her?”
“She’s Miss Carriveau’s little pet.”
With the clatter of pencil cases and the crinkle of notepaper dying down, Carriveau breezes into the room, making a beeline for her desk. Upon her entrance, the children stand respectfully, waiting to receive the command to sit.
That command is somewhat late in coming, however, as Carriveau reaches her desk and catches sight of the colorful bowl of candy. She sits, plucking the note from within it.
On one side, there’s a simple apology: Je suis désolée, mais …
She flips it over.
As much as she tries, she can’t fight the smile completely. Nor can she hide the blush on her cheeks, which only intensifies when she looks up and finds Rylie beaming at her.
Incapable of ignoring her hunger for sex, her cunt pulsing beneath her desk, it takes several seconds for her to compose herself enough to clear her throat and bark out the word “Sit.”
While the children settle themselves into their chairs, she crosses her legs, clenching her thighs together, trying not to think about how wet she is. Still flushed, she grabs a wad of papers off her desk and fans herself, making a token complaint about the temperature of the room.
Enthralled by this display, Gabby angles herself toward Rylie and whispers in her ear. “What the shit did you write in that note?!”
Of course, Rylie doesn’t tender an answer. Her own anatomy begins to throb as Carriveau’s eyes meet hers again, and her heart swells to bursting when Carriveau puts the note to one side. She doesn’t throw it in the trash, or hide it away in a drawer, she leans it against a stack of textbooks directly in front of her.
Further appreciation comes unexpectedly when, during a silent period of independent study, Carriveau gets up from her desk and weaves her way through the rows of students, peering over their shoulders to check on the progress of their work.
At Rylie’s desk, without adjusting her pace, she trails her hand over Rylie’s shoulders, from right to left. It begins much the same as their light contact had at breakfast, with her hand making its way up to Rylie’s right shoulder, but this time, she doesn’t stop. She gives a gentle squeeze, then tickles her fingertips over Rylie’s neck, beginning just below one ear and finishing below the other. From there, she slides her hand down Rylie’s left
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