Authors: Kelly Clark
Their
public
surroundings dissolved around them as she lost herself in all things Ian;
savoring
the feel of his hard muscled chest pressed against hers, the light waft of his citrus tinged
scent
and the soft brush of his long golden hair as it swayed across her shoulders.
Now, she reasoned, she’d finally kissed and touched the object of her deepest, sweetest fantasy.
And now that she’d had her first taste and touch of her beloved
rock’n’roller
, she wondered if she could ever stop.
Abruptly breaking free of his encompassing embrace, Cara cleared her throat loudly as she retreated to her desk; absently shuffling her way through some papers as she told him in a distracted tone, “Well be sure and tell me how things go in class today. Best of luck, Ian.”
Arching his feathered eyebrows with a wolfish
white-toothed
grin, Ian turned with a smooth flourish in the direction of the door.
“Will do Teach,” he assented, adding in a soft purr, “And here’s hoping that good
ol
’ Ian gets very, very lucky—in more ways than one.”
Chapter four
These words resounded in Cara’s mind the next morning, as she stood once again in her office cubicle; pacing the floor of her modest office as she clenched her hands tight before her.
“His class met mid-day yesterday. Why hasn’t he called me? E-mailed me? Texted me? Alerted me of his essay grade via carrier pigeon? You know, whatever chosen mode of communication works best for the dude,” she reasoned, adding as she lifted her chin to
prideful
effect, “Of course, I would expend the same amount of care and concern for all of my clients. That’s right. Every. Darned. One. Of. Them. It is my job, after all, to care about the overall welfare and singular academic success of my students.”
She cringed as that annoying little voice in her head—the one she liked to call Cara’s Conscious, and that was the politest term
she
could conjure—resounded suddenly from her psyche, saying the words she did not want or need to hear.
“It is indeed your job to care about your students,” said the voice, which she
thought always
sounded a heck of a lot like Dame Maggie Smith for some reason. “It is not your job to slobber profusely all over them—then to dream of them that night, and for the 105
th
night in a row.”
“Oh, do you have to go and keep count?” Cara scoffed aloud, adding as she rolled her eyes heavenward, “Why don’t you just
shuddup
!”
“Cara, are you kosher?”
Jumping at the sound of another voice that had an annoying habit of running her life, Cara now turned to face Gary Lennox,
lead
teacher at the
Primswell
University student tutoring center.
“Yeah,” she assured him with a wan forced smile. “I’m kosher.”
“Good,” he replied, tone equally forced and totally unconvinced. “One of your students is here, and he looks to be incredibly joyful about his
latest
composition grade—a grade, or so he has told me, that you helped him earn.”
Clasping her hands before her, Cara let loose with a
loud,
joyful whoop as she processed this news.
“Ian!” she exclaimed, adding as Gary met this exclamation with a
sharply
arched eyebrow, “Um, I am so pleased that one of my brightest, most challenging students
has
succeeded on such a grand scale.”
Gary looked at her for a long moment, then nodded.
“Indeed,” he muttered, stepping aside to make way for a golden fireball who bounded with swift strides into her office.
“Ian!” Cara exclaimed, holding her hand out to him, “So I understand you have some good news for…”
Taking her hand in his, Ian pulled her to him and swept her up in two muscled arms; holding her body closer than close as he seized her lips in a passionate kiss.
Swallowing her startled breath, Ian massaged her lips
in
soft, smooth strokes as she sighed her contentment.
Leaning into his kiss, Cara wrapped her arms around his bulging shoulders as their tongues entangled between them.
Their
public
surroundings dissolved around them as Ian’s
sturdy
hands ran like warm water down the surface of his back; soothing and massaging her tension wrought muscles as he continued to kiss her senseless.
Angling his head over hers to intensify their kiss, Ian pulled her closer still as she entwined her fingers in the lengths of his silky blond hair, pressing herself against him as she savored the feel of his
sleek,
muscular shoulders.
Just barely above the pounding of her heart, Cara heard the opening of a door in the front office of the learning center. The noise, although faint, served to shatter their intimate romantic mood, causing her to break their kiss and step sharp away from him.
For just a moment the couple stared deep into one another’s eyes, their hands still clenched as so many words remained unspoken between them.
Finally and with a deep sustaining breath, Cara parted her lips and released on a whisper, “So I take it you got an A on the paper? I mean, I’m just hazarding a wild guess here. Excuse me if I am mistaken.”
Pitching his head back in a leonine motion, Ian let loose with a melodic guffaw as he considered these words.
“You always make me laugh,” he praised her, adding with a sheepish grin, “And while I would love to tell you that I did indeed score an A on my classic lit composition, the truth is that I was only able to manage a measly B plus.”
He jumped as his tutor met these words with a loud, resounding howl.
“A measly B plus? Ian, that’s amazing!” Cara insisted, adding as she graced him with a proud smile, “You’ve come so far in such a short time, and I couldn’t be
prouder
of you.”
Ian shook his head.
“We’ve come so far in such a short time,” he corrected her, adding as he squeezed her fingers between his, “Just imagine how much further we could go together, Cara. Just imagine the possibilities.”
He said these last words in a
soft,
suggestive
tone that sent tingles down her spine.
“Well I kind of guessed as much,” she purred in return, adding as she inclined her head in his direction, “I mean, if a B plus paper earns me that kind of kiss, imagine what you’d do if you got an A,” she paused here, adding with just a hint of sensual challenge, “So you tell me, Ian,.
What’s our next step?”
Ian shrugged.
“Well for starters,” he began, tone smooth if just a bit shy. “I’d
really
like you to come to Night Grooves tonight, to see my 8 o’clock show.”
Cara thought for a moment, then shook her head.
“I don’t know Ian,” she told him, shuffling her feet beneath her. “The last time I came to see you, things didn’t go so swimmingly for me—as you may remember.”
Ian chuckled.
“
This time,
would be different,” he insisted, adding as he pointed an affirming finger in her direction, “This time you would sit at the best table in the house, front row center. I’ll join you there after the show, and we’ll—I don’t know—have dinner or something.”
Cara grinned.
“Well if I didn’t know better, Mr. McGovern,” she began, tone sly and coquettish. “I’d say that you were asking me out on a date.”
She took in her breath as he surged inward to sear her lips with a soft sweet kiss.
“You do know better,” he teased her, adding as he arched his eyebrows playful in her direction, “And, in case there’s any doubt, I am indeed asking you out on a date.”
Chapter five
That evening Cara returned once again to the darkened halls of Night Grooves; though this time both she and the scene before her seemed
greatly
transformed.
Wearing a sleek form fitting red velvet dress trimmed with lace at the collar and cuffs, she’d run a brush through the lengths of her long dark hair and arranged its strands in a graceful sweep atop her head; also applying just a touch of red lipstick, plus a small smidgen of eyeliner and blush.
“Eyeliner and blush,” she pondered, adding as she rolled her eyes heavenward, “Criminy, what is this man doing to me?”
Her sense of wonder only intensified moments later, as she approached the front of the club; quickly finding the table that Ian had reserved just for her.
“Or
at least,
I so assume that the
table
boasting the obnoxiously large sign that reads, ‘Table for Cara. All others, stay the blazes away!’ is indeed intended for me,” she observed, eyes widening as she realized that the table also came adorned with a dew glistened bouquet of scarlet red roses; one whose tag also came emblazoned with her moniker.
“Ian,” she breathed, taking a seat at the table and inhaling the scent of her rich floral gift.
Turning her attention to the stage before her, Cara felt a tingle of excitement as she saw a familiar face on stage.
Familiar—and strangely ethereal.
Once again seizing the spotlight as he stepped center stage, Ian McGovern took a deep bow to acknowledge the cheers of the crowd assembled to see his show that evening.
Yet he
reserved his trademark white toothed smile for the lady at the front table; one who returned his beam as she settled back to enjoy his performance.
Only she didn’t stay settled for long. With Ian’s
encouragement,
she stood up and danced, losing herself in the sweet rhythm of his song as she swayed her body back and forth.
Raising her arms high above her head, Cara felt both graceful and free as she danced to the tune of Ian’s signature songs; her hips swinging and her skirt twirling as she finally felt free to embrace her passion for her favorite hard rock music.
And, for that matter, for the man who performed this music.
She thrilled particularly at one point when Ian—dressed tonight in a long sleek leather coat and matching
skin-tight
pants, his long golden hair flowing free and unbound down his back—announced that his next song would be an original composition; one dedicated to the lady who had taught him the art of
composition
.
“Cara,” he announced her name to everyone, adding as he made a broad gesture in her direction, “This is for you.”
Standing stock still at the center of the floor, Cara
reveled
in the opening notes of a beautiful rock ballad; one that seemed more like a tribute to a lover than an ode to a trusted teacher.
Closing her eyes tight, she focused on the
loving
and deeply felt lyrics conveyed in the chorus of this lovely tune; words that spoke of a deep and unexpected bond between people who hailed from two different worlds--a friendship and partnership that just might blossom into something far more meaningful.
The significant meaning underlying these lyrics shone
brilliantly
through the deep melodic voice and
scintillating
guitar riffs of the man who performed them. And when he raised his metallic scarlet red
axe
to launch into a rocking guitar solo, his long silky hair flipping like a banner above his sculpted head, she found herself moving as if in a dream to the front of the stage.
From this vantage
point,
she could bask in the vision of his peerless beauty, made all the more resplendent by the bright glow of stage lights and by the tempting rhythms of the romantic dirge that flowed forth from his scarlet instrument.
Suddenly the music ended; yet somehow she knew deep in her heart that the night had just begun.
“OK Folks, well that’s the show for tonight. I hope you enjoyed it,” he paused here, adding as he reached his hand out to a smiling,
waiting
Cara, “Wherever the rest of your night takes you, I hope that my music will supply you with the soundtrack for one hell of an enchanting evening. And just know that my lady friend here and I will be joining you in this sure to be
invigorating
experience.”
Within
moments,
Cara found herself ensconced in
a low
lit backstage area that seemed like something out of a dream.