But the frayed hems and roughly faded material of her clothes are reminders that this isn’t just about what’s under her skirt. Beyond my hunger for discipline and pleasure, I feel this deep aching desire to provide for her in all ways.
“Don’t move.”
I back up and adjust the bulge behind my zipper. Stepping out of the alcove and into the main part of the classroom, I glance at the door. It’s still closed. There’s no lock, but the hinges will creak if it opens, giving me about five seconds before an intruder makes it through the room and around the corner.
As I head back to Noemi, my phone vibrates in my pocket. Irritated at the interruption, I consider ignoring it, but maybe it’ll distract me away from the mistake I’m about to make. I glance at the screen.
Dalia: I’m in town this weeken
