"Raincheck? I'm not sure I'm quite ready yet." She says, placing a hand on my cheek.
"You know where to find me."
She nods and pulls away, gathering her things and heading toward the door, pausing only long enough to give me a longing glance before she steps through.
The breath I was holding, finally escapes and I drop to a nearby desk. What in the fuck have I just done? "So much for self-control Asher," I tell myself, running a hand over my face before lowering my eyes to where she'd just been sitting. That's when I see it.
Her copy of Hamlet.
Is it an invitation, maybe to drop by her home?
Or did she truly forget?
If it's the latter, I may be lifting that skirt of hers after all.
Chapter Seven
Winston Asher Harrington
I never returned the book to her last night. Instead, I wanted to see her reaction after not having it all evening. Especially after what happened yesterday.
I gave Harlyn's question about changing where the tutoring could take place, some thought, and during a moment of alone time in class, we decided on the town library. It's where I'm heading now.
The building is just on the outskirts of town and erected in honor of the Harrington family in the early 1900s.
Teaching the Society children has been the role of women in the Harrington family for generations, but I'm the exception. I wasn't interested in the family real estate business and had my heart set on teaching, but my father disapproved. No son of his would ever be standing in front of a class, teaching a room full of snot-nosed overly privileged children. "I'm one of those over-privileged kids, dad." I'd told him, and it had earned me a slap in the face. He essentially forced my hand into his business by threatening my cash flow. If I pursued teaching, my funds would be cut-off.
Fortunately for me, he died. My mother recognized how miserable I was and made sure I got what I needed to become who I am today, a male teacher who right now is heading to give yet another student my undivided attention. Hoping I can push aside thoughts of her tiny body in that school uniform and keep my dick under control.
When I arrive, I park in the Reserved – Harrington Family parking spot and head into the building.
The interior is what you'd expect from a library. The scent of pages covered in words is the first thing that hits you. Next is the overwhelming rows of books after books stacked neatly all around the room with pockets of reading spaces here and there.
What's unique about this library are the public rooms offset from the main book area where visitors can meet or just have some private space. I chose a secluded place for Harlyn and me. Not only will it squash her fears of being seen by any classmates but also reduce any distractions.
"Hi, Mr. Harrington." Our resident librarian greets.
"Tasha." I offer her a nod and then realize I'm not sure where I'm going. "Can you point me in the direction of the Mesa Verde room? It's been some time since I've been here."
"Sure, Mr. Harrington, this way." She tells me, and I follow.
When we reach the room, I notice the door is ajar, and I peek through the glass. There sits Harlyn wringing her fingers and squirming in her seat. The earlier idea I had about refraining from sexual thoughts flutter right out the window.
"Anything else, Mr. Harrington?"
"No thanks Tasha, I've got it from here," I say, not looking back at her because all my focus is on the girl waiting nervously on the other side.
It's times like these I wonder if I should've listened and stuck with real estate. If I'd met Harlyn while showing a house, at a coffee shop, or anywhere else at least then, the thoughts I've been having wouldn't be inappropriate, and potentially risk losing my job. I just need to get through this week.
I step through the door.
Her eyes lift to mine, her expression. I offer her a smile, and she relaxes, returning the same.
"Harlyn I want to apologize, what happened yesterday--,"
With a raised hand, she stops me, "You don't need to apologize. You didn't do anything I didn't want. But this isn't how I want to get my grade, Mr. Harrington. I want to earn it. I know I can."
She's saying everything I want to hear, including her earning her grade. My mind quickly flits to how she could do that on her knees. Maybe if I taped pages of literature across my stomach, the thought brings a chuckle that I mask as clearing my throat. "It's interesting you say that since I found this… on your desk yesterday."
Her smile goes wide and somehow turns mischievous. "That's for you."
"What do you mean it's for me?"
She raises her e-reader and shows me her copy of Hamlet before nodding back to the book in my hand. "Go on, open it."
Just on the inside of the cover is a folded note. I glance back to her, and she nods. Cautiously I unfold the paper and read the contents aloud. "Mr. Harrington. I could see your appreciation for books goes beyond that of even a collector. No one has ever shown an interest in helping me achieve anything, and for that, I'm incredibly grateful. Please accept this $5847 copy of Hamlet as a way of showing my appreciation.
Sincerely, Francis Harlyn Aldridge."
I extend my hand out to her, "I can't accept this."
She jumps up and comes around the table. Pushing the book and my hands against my chest. "You can, and you will." She says. "Please let me just do this for you."
I place the book on the table behind and pull her in. "Thank you." It's all I manage to get out before my lips crash down on hers.
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