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She pressed the plug in the tub with her toe and adjusted the showerhead, lying down in the tub. The spray beat against her abdomen, drumming heat, arousing her. Not like this one tonight, she thought. She had seen him the moment she walked in to the hotel he was alone, at the end of the bar. Strolling over, she had arranged herself artfully on the empty stool facing him. The pounding spray from the shower echoed the warmth that had flushed though Michele as his eyes scanned her – slowly, from her patent leather pumps, up her lightly muscled legs, stopping mid-torso, as they all did, staring at her plump, perky breasts. He had bought the drinks, he already had a room. Michele’s legs spread, letting the water beat against her clit, arousing her. Inside the elevator, her excitement had grown as he ground against her, frantic in his eagerness. It was their desire she fed on, their need. Coolly she had stood there, allowing him to fondle her, but not responding, making him try harder.. “Students, please come to the assembly hall and your questions will be answered.”Jerry stands unsteadily. “Well I guess we should find out what’s going on.”Jerry exits the room, with Barb following. The corridors are stone, like some ancient castle. There are no windows, but every so often a tapestry depicting some disturbing often sexual scene hangs on the wall.Jerry wonders how the the building is built. There seems to be only one corridor. Finally they enter a large hall. Barb makes a little wow sound. There are at least fifty college age students milling about.A black robed hooded figure stands on a small stage. It shows no skin, and Jerry swears she sees a pair of red glowing eyes deep inside the cowl.“Welcome students you are probably wondering why you are here. This is Scolamance. Here you will learn to use dark forces to advance our Master’s agenda. Here there are no rules, except obedience to your professor. Now let the semester begin!”He claps his hands and the robe falls to.
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She would bring him a cup of tea. Should she take his hand, speak softly, gently? Or, just say, ‘Martin, I have something to tell you’ and just bluntly blurt it out, straightforward and direct—the way Tom was with her, a trait she admired but wasn’t sure she could emulate. That night, she made a pasta dish with a red meat sauce, garlic bread, and a salad. Martin said it was delicious and how much he appreciated all the good meals she made. Catherine liked that he complimented her when she made a good meal, or brought home a special dessert from the bakery; however, this night it was hard for her to have a conversation while they ate. She stared down at her plate, nibbled at her food, glancing up at Martin twirling the pasta on his fork, closing his eyes when he raised it to his mouth, savoring the taste. When they finished eating, she took his plate, put water in the teapot and asked if he would like some mint tea or the Earl Grey he often drank. “Either’s fine,” he said, sitting.

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