Mr Blackwell: Teacher Student Romance (11 page)

43

Christ.

For the first time in my adult life, I am losing control.

It feels like trying to hold back a rushing train with my palms.

Impossible.

Sophia puts her hand on my shoulder, and I don’t push her away.

The feel of her – she is amazing. Not just her body. Her soul too.

I close my eyes.

My fingers loosen on her wrist and I let her hand drop, breathing her in. Good god, she’s perfect.

Does she know how her hand feels to me? Does she know what she’s doing?

‘Marc—’ Sophia’s voice is light. Gentle.

My eyes flicker open, but I can’t look at her.

‘Are you sure this is what you want?’ I manage.

If this is some sort of test, I’ve failed. I failed the day I met her. I never should have let her come to the college.

‘Ye-es,’ she says, the most adorable little catch in her voice.

I turn to her, my eyes hardening. This is it, then. I am a total, complete bastard who is about to cross the line with an innocent, young pupil.

Sophia has fallen into the arms of a wolf. And she is about to find out exactly what I am capable of.

I push my lips down hard on hers, with the hunger, anger and passion that’s been driving me crazy since she started Ivy College.

I want her to submit to me. I want her to be mine.

I
have
to have her.

She softens against me, yielding. Just like I want her to.

She is mine. She is mine.

I take her into my arms and lean her back, lips pressing harder on her now.

My hand goes into her hair and round to her neck.

There have been so many girls. So, so many girls. But none like her.

It feels unbelievable, to take charge of her like this.

A part of me wants to laugh. She thinks she sees light in me. She thinks everyone has light in them. But maybe she’s wrong.

I pull her hair tight.

She gasps, and I feel myself harden.

The feeling of her under my control is unbelievable. I’m almost dizzy with it.

I hold my eyes on hers, challenging her.

This is who I am Sophia. I am not a nice man. Not a nice man at all.

She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t move. Her eyes don’t take on that wanton, glassy look that says fuck me right now.

She just looks … afraid.

Oh dear god.

What am I?

Reality comes crashing down on me.

I am her teacher.

I let go of her hair.

‘This can’t happen,’ I say, pulling back. ‘Sophia—’

‘Why can’t it happen?’

That answer surprises me. Isn’t it obvious? Didn’t she feel the tightness of my hand in her hair just now?

‘Because there’s a side of me I don’t want you to see.’

‘Marc, I’m not afraid.’

I want to laugh. She may not be afraid now, but she will be. She will be terrified, awakened, pleasured and terrified again.

Does she think of me as simply strict? Cold? Detached?

Doesn’t she know what I want to do to her? Can’t she picture herself, as I do, tied up and begging for mercy?

‘But Sophia, don’t you understand?’ I say. ‘I need to be in control.’

‘You’re scared you’re losing control?’ she whispers.

I laugh. ‘Not exactly.’ I am afraid of losing control, of course. But that’s not what all this is about. I
need
to be in control. That’s just how I work.

‘Then what do you mean?’ she asks.

‘I mean I want to control
you
. To dominate you. That’s why this is all so wrong. I never should have …’

I watch her large, brown eyes widen and see her soft, gentle lips pull in confusion. She doesn’t know what’s going on. She just doesn’t understand.

‘
Christ
,’ I blurt out. ‘You should go. This shouldn’t be happening.’

‘Marc, please—’

‘GO,’ I snap, finding one final flurry of strength that sends her reeling away.

She looks hurt and confused, but she’ll get over it.

I watch her fall out of the cupboard, giddy and searching around to get her bearings.

I sink back against the shelves, a hand running through my hair.

Thank god. I didn’t touch her. I let her go …

But then a voice in the classroom makes me stand bolt upright.

‘I heard Mr Blackwell was in here. I wanted to talk to him.’

Oh for fuck’s sake.

It’s Cecile.

Denise was right about her. She saw an edge to Cecile at the auditions – something unpleasant and self-centred. She didn’t want her at the college because she didn’t think she’d be supportive towards the other students. And she was right.

God really does have a sense of humour today.

I stride out of the cupboard.

‘Mr Blackwell,’ says Cecile. ‘I wanted to speak to you about my performance. But I see you’re busy.’

That last comment is aimed at Sophia.

44

Cecile stalks out of the classroom, and I feel my insides sink. She’s jealous – I know women well enough by now to spot jealousy. Actually, it’s something I seem to cultivate in them. I suppose it’s because I’m so detached. So uninterested in a relationship. When they get close, I move on to the next one. And they go crazy.

Cecile, the poor little rich girl, wants a famous actor on her arm. And she, quite rightly, sees Sophia as a threat.

Sophia’s eyes are wide and frightened. ‘Marc—’

‘She doesn’t know anything,’ I reassure her. ‘Look, what happened back there was so wrong.’

‘It didn’t feel wrong to me.’ She rubs her beautiful, slender arms.

I let out a long breath. ‘Sophia, listen. You should be with a nice young student who kisses you on the cheek and takes you out to dinner. I’m not kind or gentle or nice. I’m … I’m a monster.’

‘You don’t seem like a monster to me. I … Marc I want to know you. All of you. I’m not afraid.’

Not afraid? Oh Sophia, Sophia. You will be …

‘Sophia, you don’t know what you’re saying.’

‘I do,’ she replies. ‘I’ve never felt this way. Ever. I have to know, Marc. I have to know where this will go. I don’t care what you’re into. I don’t care if you’re a monster. I can’t live my life not knowing what we could have together.’

I feel like someone just reached into my chest and crushed my heart. In the cupboard just now, I thought I’d dodged a bullet. Scared her away. And yet she’s still here, wanting to know me. All of me.

And I want to know her too.

This will ruin her. Doesn’t she understand that? The games I play … once you’re in, you’re in. There’s no turning back. Once the temperature gets turned right up, every other sort of relationship seems freezing cold.

Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t have met Cassandra. Would I have stayed happy at lukewarm, never knowing there could be more?

No. I don’t think so. I think I would have found another Cassandra at some point. You can’t hide these urges. They have to come out.

I let my eyes wander over Sophia’s beautiful face, taking her in.

‘You really want to do this? Do you really want to find out what I’m all about?’

She nods.

‘Then I’ll be in touch.’

‘When?’

‘Soon.’

45

That was the moment. The turning point. It was when I decided I was going to have her. No matter what.

I knew it was wrong. But I’d already shown myself capable of very dark things. What was one more? Why torture myself any longer? Why pretend I was anything good? Why deny myself?

Once I’d decided that I was going to have Sophia, there was no turning back.

We were both on the rollercoaster together, strapped in and heading for the fall.

When Sophia left my classroom, I let myself obsess – truly obsess – in a way I hadn’t before. I began to imagine what I would do to Sophia to make her submit to me. The games I would play.

It was delicious, beautiful agony, waiting for my desires to be fulfilled. But waiting was part of the game too.

That first day, I couldn’t wait long. Only until the evening …

46

I wait on the cold, dark campus watching Sophia’s tower.

She’s in her bedroom. But Sleeping Beauty isn’t sleeping. The lights are on and I see the flicker of the TV.

It’s far too late for her to be awake.

I smile.

Once I take control of her, I can tell her when to go to bed, when to wake up, what to eat … she will be mine in every way.

It’s funny – now I’ve stopped wrestling with my conscience, things are very simple.

I am a bad man. She is a good girl. This can’t end well. But I have to have her.

Sophia comes onto her balcony, wrapped in a duvet.

My heart softens when I see her. So sweet and pure. So unaware that a monster lurks in the shadows, watching her.

It’s time.

I let myself into the tower, careful to be quiet. I don’t want any other students seeing me or guessing what is going on. I owe Sophia that at least.

When I reach Sophia’s door, I hesitate.

I could walk away now. I could leave Sophia alone. But she wants this too. I know she does. I’ve always known. She wants me to show her.

My knuckles come down softly on the door.

Knock, knock, knock.

I wait, hearing her movements in the bedroom.

Suddenly, the wait for her is unbearable and I hear myself knocking louder.

Knock, knock, knock!

Sophia’s voice comes through the door, soft and muffled. ‘Tanya? Tom?’

The door opens, and there she is – looking unbearably cute in pyjamas, with her hair fluffy and wild.

I put a hand to the doorframe. ‘I saw your light on.’

She stares at me, totally bewildered.

She is adorable. Utterly adorable.

‘Can I come in?’ If we go down this road, there will be a time when I don’t ask her permission for anything. But today I do.

‘Of course you can,’ she says, and she doesn’t sound afraid.

I stalk into her room, the fox in the rabbit den. I love the smell of her. It’s the most intoxicating thing. And to be in her room like this … late at night … when she’s not expecting me … I couldn’t want for anything more intimate.

Sophia picks up clothing, pushing it into the wardrobe.

I feel a smile tug at my lips – the fact she’s tidying for me … it’s so sweet.

I love seeing the way she lives. I love seeing her vulnerability.

I go straight through to the balcony and look out over the campus, my heart churning.

I didn’t expect to feel this way. I thought it would be simple. The plan was to come up here and have her submit to me. And then I would feel relief. But I love this girl.

Christ.

I feel Sophia behind me. ‘What ... what are you doing here?’

Silly question. You know what I’m doing here, Sophia. You know full well.

I glance back at her, noticing the old, dried out bouquet of flowers on the table inside. ‘You kept my flowers.’

‘Yes. They were beautiful, so I let them dry out. The card was beautiful too.’

‘Believe me, Sophia, I had no idea when I sent those flowers ... I hate myself for feeling this way about you.’ I turn to her. Enough of this. Let’s get to the point. ‘If we’re going to … go further there are things I need to know. Have you had boyfriends before?’

Sophia’s cheeks turn a lovely red. ‘Yes.’

‘Tell me about them.’

‘Nothing big. Just a couple of boys at college and university. Nothing serious. Just, you know. Teenage stuff. I’ve been working too hard to have time for a social life.’

‘Did you have sex with them?’

‘Yes,’ she stammers. ‘One of them.’

A red fog clouds my thoughts and I have images of punching out Sophia’s boyfriend.

Jealousy! I almost want to laugh. I’ve never felt that before.

What is this girl doing to me?

‘What kind of sex?’ I ask.

‘I suppose the usual kind,’ says Sophia, clearly very uncomfortable.

I am relieved. No one has hurt her or defiled her. I will be the first.

47

‘How many kinds are there?’ she asks.

I smile. ‘Lots and lots of kinds. I told you I needed to be in control. In charge.’

‘Yes.’

‘That means in the bedroom too.’

‘And what if I don’t agree to that?’

‘Nothing would make me happier. It would mean we could go our separate ways.’

‘You’re saying that unless I let you
take charge
of me, we can’t have a relationship?’

At last she understands.

‘Are you beginning to see why you’re better off without me?’ I say.

She hesitates. ‘I can’t be without you.’

Those words hit me like a blow to the chest, and I want to keel over.

I can’t be without you either.

‘I just can’t,’ she continues. ‘Not without knowing what we could have together.’

‘I was afraid you’d say that,’ I tell her. ‘But do you understand what I’m saying to you? For this to work you have to accept that I’m the one in charge. With your consent, of course. But at all times.’

‘I need to know more,’ she says. ‘What exactly do you mean by taking charge of me?’

‘Control you. Dominate you. Discipline you.’

‘Discipline me?’

‘If you step out of line, you’ll be punished.’

Her lips quiver. ‘I’m not sure I like that idea.’

‘If you want hearts and flowers, walk away right now. You’re a beautiful, innocent young girl who any man would kill for. If I were you, I’d run a million miles from a man like me.’

‘What do you mean by punishment?’

‘Maybe I’ll spank you. Maybe I’ll tie you up and fuck you until you can’t bear any more. It really depends how you step out of line. Come inside. It’s cold out here.’

I walk to the bed, and direct her to sit beside me.

We are close now, and I know she feels it too – the tension. The excitement.

Someone up there tied our souls together in the cruellest way. I have no idea why. But I can’t fight it anymore.

Sophia looks up at me, her eyes strong and determined. ‘Yes,’ she says. ‘I want to try. I want to try what you’re asking.’

I know you do.

‘How many times have you had sex before?’ I ask.

I know she’ll be embarrassed by this question. But this is part of the game. The way things start. She must be a little embarrassed. Humiliated. To show that she will submit to me. But I will protect her. Take care of her. I will never take things too far.

‘I haven’t kept count,’ she says, her body suddenly awkward. ‘But not a lot. Maybe five or six times. With my boyfriend at university.’

‘Sophia, I’ll never hurt you without your consent. Or let anything happen to you. You’ll be safer with me than anyone, I guarantee that. But I will take charge of you. Are you ready for that?’

She leans towards me, and a strange, unknown part of me wants to kiss her. To take her into my arms. But that’s not how I work.

I take her face in my hands. ‘I have to have a decision from you, Sophia. Can you accept what I have to offer?’

‘Yes,’ she says. ‘I think so.’

And now she is mine.