September 6th, 2013
I started my second year today. It’s about eight at night now, and I’m dead tired. My classes for the semester will be so difficult. Or, well, challenging. Intellectually stimulating. That doesn’t make any of them more easy, if I adorn them with fancy words.
The week following the Tuesday was painful; Mister Alley barely glanced at me, and I was desperate for his gaze. Even if it was held just for a simple few seconds, but…I think he must have glanced in my general direction, not even at me, maybe thrice? Four times? I believe he was just embarrassed. He was so endearing.
A Saturday evening one week in December held a dinner for any student in an English course, including the professors. Over 500 students showed up; it was held in the lobby of a nearby grand hotel. The university had booked the entire floor, and also rented out rooms for students to use for the evening if they were too drunk to drive home. I wasn’t one of these students. But Beth was. And when she was drunk, she was definitely not allowed to drive.
The whole evening Beth and Mister Wimble had exchanged rather inappropriate glances. I scanned the busy crowd for Mister Alley, but he was nowhere to be seen. The air was far too warm inside and I had begun to sweat. At this time, it was mid-December, of course. Outside the hotel, it rained quietly. In my heels, I managed to stumble through the mass of people and leave the hotel.
“Oh!” I gasped, noticing Mister Alley standing up against a pillar near the entrance.
He turned his head to look at me. One foot was pressed on the pillar, a half-empty glass of wine in his hand. He squinted at me, trying to process who had just left the hotel. The light of the lobby blinding him, shrouding my features in shadow.
“Yes,” I simply replied. I stared at the stone below me as I advanced towards the pillar opposite to him. I leaned up against the pillar, too, but only with the support of my back.
“Why are you out here? Not enjoying yourself?”
“You make it sound like you are disappointed to see me.”
He laughed sadly, staring into his glass. He sipped from it, then looked back up towards me. “Not at all. Quite the opposite.”
“Are you drunk, sir?”
I smiled. Looking out to the gardens in front of the hotel, I sighed. A wistful ghost floated past my mocha lips.
“You look…you look lovely tonight, Miss Peregrine.”
I didn’t look back at the man, a blush creeping along my front. I stared at my painted toes instead and my smile grew. “Thank you.”
I heard him push off from the pillar and step towards me. My body tensed. Glancing up, I caught his eye.
“I think—” He laughed then, as if what he was to say was ludicrous. He stood before me and let his gaze lock with mine once more. Tongue darted out over lips, and I could feel the blush inching up my cheeks.
I lightly pressed off from the pillar, standing as straight and as tall as I could; I was still inches shorter.
“I think, if I am to be so bold, that…you are the most radiant young woman here tonight.”
I puffed a laugh, breaking our gaze to stare out into the rain. “Don’t say that,” I heaved.
“Because you’re drunk.”
“Did I not tell you, just moments ago, that I was, in fact, not drunk, Miss Peregrine?” He took another step closer.
My breath hitched in my throat and I sucked on my lips. Staring at him, trying to figure out if he was actually drunk or not, I swallowed. My lips popped from within my mouth and I licked at them. I saw his eyes travel from my eyes to my lips, and then flick back up. I wasn’t breathing. I don’t think he was, either.
The moment was too, it was too…intense. I did a stupid thing, then, Hatter.
“Not here,” I begged out of desperation.
He looked down at our feet, almost touching, and gave a curt nod. He took several steps backward and his gaze found mine once more.
“Right. No, you’re right. Absolutely. Not at a school-hosted event. I’m your, I’m your p-professor, you’re a student of mine, it would be wrong…”
“That’s not what I meant.”
I watched his cheeks flush. A small smile tugged at his lips and he uttered a laugh, looking down. “Oh.”
My own blush had infected the flesh of my chest, of my collarbones, my neck, my cheeks. Even my arms were glowing.
“Room three-fourteen. Ten minutes.”
My eyes widened at his offer. “Are you—”
My lips shifted into my cheek, and I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear nervously. At the time, I wondered if it was really happening, if perhaps I had been dreaming. But it was really happening.
I slid seamlessly back into the crowd, nobody asking where I had gone for several minutes; nobody cared. They were either too happy, too drunk, or both, to even notice my short disappearance.
Making my way through the waves of bodies, I made it to the stairs. I climbed them quickly, pretending I had a purpose other than meeting my professor in his hotel room. There were many people lounging on the steps, which made it easier for me to blend in.
On the second floor, I took the elevator—I didn’t want to be more sweaty than I already was. The elevator doors dinged open on the third floor, and I rushed out. It smelled like a perfumery in that metal box, and I was only semi-thankful. At least I smelled a little better.
I knocked on my professor’s door, waiting for him to open it. I glanced down either end of the hallway, hoping nobody would see me. There wasn’t anyone on this floor yet. I thanked every god.
Mister Alley opened the door moments later, allowing me entrance. I leaped inside the room and he shut the door behind me.
“A little too eager?” he joked. He was tipsy, that I was sure of. Maybe not completely raging drunk, but he was tipsy.
“Huh? No, I was just worried someone would, uh, would see me.”
He nodded thoughtfully.
I walked further into the room and ended up sitting on the bed. Mister Alley sat beside me. He tapped fingers on his knee and stared around the room.
“There’s a bottle of champagne, in the—in the fridge.”
I looked towards him. “You’re determined to forget me, huh?”
His eyes bugged when he snapped his head to stare. “N-no!”
“I’m not thirsty.”
Mister Alley gripped his knee tightly. Finally, “What happened last weekend? When you, when…”
I snorted. “Nothing,” was repeated.
“Miss Peregrine, I—I don’t believe you.”
“You don’t want to believe me. You’re too much of a Stammering Sam to even think of talking to a girl, let alone a student, so you want to believe something happened whilst you were drunk to make yourself feel better.” I didn’t know where that had all come from, and I felt horrid. “S-sorry.”
He appeared thoughtful for a minute, as if mulling over my words. “No, no, you’re right. I—I am a, what did you say? Stammering Sam? It’s…true. And I’m sorry I’m not more bold. That I’m not more…adventurous. Daring.”
I twisted my torso to face him better. I touched the hand that rested on his knee. “Professor, it’s—I don’t care.”
His eyes darted to his knee and I watched him swallow. “Miss P-Peregrine,” he started.
I don’t know what came over me when my hand slid up his leg, finally resting on his inner thigh. I felt…dirty, like some sort of—I don’t know. Like a whore, and he was paying me. Licking my lips, I rolled my hand closer to his groin. I could feel his body tense up, and he quickly stood.
A hand in his hair, he paced the room. “M-Miss Peregrine, I, I can’t, this was a horrible idea, I’m so sorry, I’m so—so embarrassed, I can’t allow you to—it wouldn’t be right—I’m your professor—you’re just a girl! I would, I would, would ruin you, hurt you; something, I can’t,” came spewing past his lips. He licked them. I watched, wanting his tongue to run lines up my front. A shiver rocked through me as I pushed the thoughts from my mind.
“I’m not a girl, professor,” I muttered, hurt.
“No, no, you’re not! That’s the point! You’re a blossoming young woman, and you’re—you’re beautiful, you are truly beautiful, and I haven’t felt like this in so long, the butterflies—the—the—the everything! I would be taking advantage of you!”
“Don’t yell, it’s fine; I’m not mad.”
“I am, though! I’m mad, oh, I’m so mad; I’m mad for—for—for you!”
This made a smile hug my lips. I couldn’t force it away. I had to look the other way so he wouldn’t see how elated I was to hear such a thing.
“Stop smiling!” he cried in a hush. “P-please, no, you’re—you can’t, God, I’m so embarrassed,” he blubbered.
It took every ounce of strength to erase the smile from my cheeks. I pulled a stern face, rising from the bed slowly.
“Don’t come any closer, Miss Peregrine, I don’t know what I’ll—” he stared before I began to take small, calculated steps towards him.
“Should I leave?” I whispered.
“Yes!—N-no, no! Don’t, please, God, don’t leave, I just want to be in the same room as you for a little while longer, alone, not with seventy other brainless children, I just want to—want to—”
“Want to, what?” I egged.
He threw his hands in the air. They both knotted in his hair. He looked so frustrated with himself, I wanted to kiss all the hard lines of his face away. I wanted him to initiate it, however; I didn’t want to be the one who made the first move to start a student-teacher relationship.
“I want to, to…Miss Peregrine, I want you to get into the closet.”
Well, that was not how I was expecting him to finish. “Wh—”
I squeezed myself into the closet, watching through the open crack. I held my breath for as long as I could as the room door opened and a very drunk Mister Wimble tumbled in.
“Shh, shh!” hissed a female’s voice. I realized instantly that it was Beth. For Christ’s sake.
“Shh, don’t be so loud!” she spat through gritted teeth.
Mister Wimble collapsed on the edge of the bed, eventually sitting up on his elbows. I watched Beth dance in between his parted legs, then she knelt. Unzipped his pants, and…God, Hatter, I wanted to puke. While she was busy, I snuck out the closet door and the hotel room. Well, there went my wonderful evening.
I made my way, utterly deflated, to the second floor where my room lay. Unlocking the door with the key card I had kept in my bra, it clinked open and I oozed my way inside. I heard a drunk couple slopping away at each other’s lips, and I shivered. I didn’t hear the heavy door close behind me, and so I spun around to find Mister Alley carefully closing it.
“I’m so terribly sorry for my colleague—”
“And my friend.”
We both laughed lightly. He looked down at the carpet. When he looked up again, he seemed determined. His shoulders sat a bit straighter, and I could tell he was going to do something brave.
But when he walked past me and lied down on the bed, hands at his sides, I blinked in disappointment. He patted the spot beside him.
I crawled onto the bed from the end, making sure to grab his attention by clearing my throat. I lied on my side, temple in palm and resting my elbow on the pillow. I watched his gaze flick from my chest to my eyes, embarrassed. He sat up with ease. Hands in his lap, Mister Alley sniffed.
I sat up, too. My legs curled underneath me, I tucked hair behind my ear. “I wouldn’t be upset to be your dirty, little secret.”
Mister Alley snapped his age on me. “You’re not dirty.”
“That’s what you think.” I honestly didn’t know where my words were being pulled from; I felt wrong, inappropriate. I think it was the alcohol, though I hadn’t drunk much.
Mister Alley swallowed, tongue licking his lips. I mimicked him, but slower. He swallowed again, watching my tongue slip back into my mouth.
“I—I, um, I play the p-piano,” he stuttered.
I blinked. “Violin.”
I nodded. “Since I was seven.”
“That’s too young to learn an instrument.”
“Not according to Daddy Dearest.”
He looked down, embarrassed. “I’m sorry.”
He gave a small shrug. “Was he mean to you?”
I choked out a laugh. “Yes.”
“Sorry, sorry, sorry; all you ever say is sorry. Don’t apologize. Stop regretting things. Live a little.”
He almost said sorry a final time, but then gave a tight-lipped smile. I laughed, truly.
I slapped his thigh playfully, pulling my hand back into my lap. I shifted my position, so my head was on his thighs. My legs bent at the knees, heels digging into the edge of the bed. I laid my hands up over my head lazily. I felt Mister Alley tense up, which caused me to roll onto my stomach. I was still lying over him. Staring up at him, I thought of Beth and Mister Wimble. I bit at my lower lip and adjusted my position so it was more comfortable. “She gives the best blow jobs,” suddenly came spewing past my lips.
“I wouldn’t know.”
I laughed whole-heartedly. I had to cover my mouth. “Of course you wouldn’t.”
It grew silent, me lying across his legs, and his hands resting on the bed behind him.
Finally, I asked him, “Have you ever accepted a sexual favour from a student in exchange for grades?”
He inhaled a shaky breath. “My first year as a professor.”
I shot up, sitting. “No!” I breathed.
I brought a hand to my forehead as I laughed. “Oh my God!” I couldn’t stop laughing. “I seriously would have never—oh God, wow.”
“Does that make me a bad person?”
I shook my head, hands falling in my lap. “No, I don’t think so. When did you get laid last, when that happened?”
“That’s a very personal question, Miss P—”
“I’m a virgin.”
Red blotched across his cheeks. I saw him swallow thickly.
Laughing, I said, “I’ve never even kissed a boy before!” I was shaking. I covered my mouth with one hand as he stared at me, shocked.
“I hadn’t been with a woman in four years.”
My mouth open in a smile, I stopped laughing. But, of course, I started up again.
“Don’t laugh at me.”
“I’m—I’m not, oh, no, professor, I’m not laughing at you,” I stammered. My laughter ceased. I breathed deeply.
“It was a mistake. I heard from Theod—Mister Wimble…that she had tried the same gimmick with him a few days later. She was an easy young woman.”
“‘Easy,’ what do you mean?”
“She fooled around with everyone. New boyfriend every week.”
“Am I easy?” Worried that I was, I bit my lip.
“No, you’re not easy.”
A sigh escaped me.
“You’re incredibly difficult, Miss Peregrine.”
I snorted. “Maybe it’s you who is being difficult, professor.”
We fell silent for a few minutes. I took his hand in both of mine, pulling it close. I traced lines along his palm slowly. He placed his other hand in his lap, but I didn’t think anything of it.
“M-Miss Peregrine, p-please,” he pleaded quietly.
“What? I’m not doing anything.”
“Yes, you’re—just, just stop that. S-stop touching my hand.”
I rolled my eyes and heaved a sigh. I shifted my weight and sat up on my knees. “Why? Do you…like it?” I asked, placing emphasis on the consonants.
He cleared his throat and looked away. “V-very much so.”
I huffed a laugh and dropped his hand. “You should touch me.”
His gaze snapped back to my face, and he searched it for something.
“I’m giving you permission.”
“I—I couldn’t—it would be—terribly—”
I picked up his hand again and before he could react, I brought it to my breast. I held his hand there for several seconds before dropping my own. His hand stayed. I kneed closer to him, and I watched his face turn cherry red. His brow was furrowed ever so sweetly above the oceans of his eyes, and I just about drowned.
“Miss—Miss Peregrine…I…” He began to pull his hand away, and I was crestfallen. I figured he didn’t want me. That I wasn’t good enough for him. That I wasn’t—I don’t know. That I was maybe, too chubby, not pretty enough, just simply not good enough.
“Fine. Sorry. I’ll just, I dunno, I’ll—”
“U-unzip your dress,” he demanded in a hushed voice.
My eyes widened at his timid order. A tiny smile reared its head upon my lips. I did as I was asked, reaching behind my back to pull the zip down.
He licked at his lips furiously, sucking on them afterwards. My head rolled back as the dress slipped from my chest. My thighs tingled.
Mister Alley shuddered a breath, and my gaze fell upon his. His eyes bore right into my skull. They were glossy, and I could feel that he wanted this, wanted me, but at the same time…he would regret it. I could tell that he was already regretting it. I was self-conscious.
But all thoughts left my head as his face descended upon my collarbones. He sucked gently, one hand sliding up my back. The other crept into mine, and our fingers tangled. I let my head fall back, allowing him to press kisses along my neck with ease.
He moaned against my skin as my free hand found its way into the back of his hair. I gripped the short strands as I sat on my legs slowly. I pressed my knees together tightly out of embarrassment.
His teeth grazed my jaw, and I felt my stomach drop. I gasped when I felt his fingernails pull a line down my back. I arched my spine out of reflex.
Mister Alley pulled back, then, and I started to protest.
“No, nonono, please, don’t do this,” I whined like a bratty child.
He began to shake his head, eyes shut tight. “I can’t get you out of my head; you’ve infected me, poisoned me.” Mister Alley took my hand from his hair.
I could see he wanted this the way his pants had tightened. “I’m—I’m honestly e-embarrassed. Maybe even humiliated. To be…to…to want you. The w-way I do.”
“No, but, that’s fine, that’s okay, I don’t care what you do to me,” I continued to whine. “Come on, don’t do this.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose and I took the chance to reach for his belt.
“What are you—”
“Don’t regret this,” I begged.
He stared at me with wide eyes, like he truly was a rabbit; a rabbit in the headlights of my oncoming vehicle from Hell. I carefully undid the belt. Once it was free, I pulled it from his pants and dropped it on the floor. My inner thighs throbbing, I unbuttoned him until I could see his boxer shorts. I almost laughed—red plaid. How typical. They were a soft cotton, which I only realized after I had my hand down their front.
His breathing hitched and he swallowed loudly.
“A-Alice—” he began. I picked up his hand and brought it to my bare chest. I could tell he was trying to think of something to say so he could escape. But I wanted to make him realize that I would be the best dirty, little secret he ever kept.
I stroked him slowly, almost excited to know that I would get him off.
“A—Alice—!” he peeped.
“What happened to Miss Peregrine? Not as proper as I thought, professor,” I cooed into his ear, breathing into it softly.
I felt him tense and shiver under my hand.
“P-please, think o-of your, your f-f-future,” he croaked. His head bobbed forward, mouth open and jaw twitching. When his eyes finally shut tight, I finished him off. I thought I had given a damn good hand job, for my first one.
With Mister Alley spent, lying beside me, I buttoned him back up the best I could, but didn’t even attempt with his belt. I zipped up my dress and laid my head on his chest.
“M-Miss Peregrine, you’re—you’ll—I think you’re g-going to—you have to d-drop m-my course,” he sputtered while staring at the stucco’d ceiling in awe.
“I’ll f-fail you,” he threatened pathetically.
“I’ll have to take the course next year, then.”
His head rose from the pillow and he stared at me, defeated.
I laughed, my ear pressed against his heart. I could hear the wild drums playing in the jungle of his ribs, and it made me sleepy. I closed my eyes.
Mister Alley danced his fingers in my hair gently.
September 6th, 2013