The Mistress - an Erotic Noir Novel (2 page)

She made her way to the couch, settling upon it and crossing her
legs daintily. She was not interested in a formal conversation, not
at this hour. Placing her purse beside her, she looked up at him with
a pleasant expression, “So then, Professor Russell. I’m
simply dying to know... what is the future?”

His fashion sense was more of the old world, dapper but not as
sharp as Sinclair’s. Closing the door he touched a hand to his
chest, “Me, simply put.” With a cocky smile he moved to
sit beside her on the couch, an arm up over the back of the sofa.
“Sinclair’s the current department head, but he can’t
remain there forever, dear. He’s already so old,” he said
dismissively, though Sinclair clearly had years to go before
retirement might be a major issue. “By the time you complete
your degrees and are looking at becoming a professor, he’ll
likely be gone, and all your investment in cultivating an academic
relationship will be lost.”

“So you’re proposing I spend more time dedicated to
cultivating a relationship with you?” she teased lightly,
clearly leaving out an operative word. “My, my. You do have
high hopes for yourself. What makes you think you’ll be the one
to be promoted? You’re so young, after all,” she gushed,
walking a line between teasing and genuine appreciation.

Displaying not an ounce of doubt in his own abilities, the smiling
foreigner leaned towards her just a bit. “It’s a foregone
conclusion,” he said in a sort of conspiratorial voice.
Grinning he added, “Dashing British academic, recruited from
across the seas to come elucidate the New World masses. The only
other real candidate is Turing,” he said as if that explained
it all, “the man is scarcely capable of swaying the
administration in his favour, no?” With a cocked eyebrow he
seemed to be daring her to refute it, and she could feel his fingers
lightly brush the back of her blouse.

She turned her eyes to his, her body shifting just slightly to be
facing him in a more attractive manner, “Ah, but he’s
spent so much time cultivating his own academic relationships.
Perhaps he has tricks that you’re not aware of.” She was
teasing him, of course, but at the same time it was a simple sort of
prying for more information.

With a deeper chuckle he said, “His obsession with drugs is
the only thing pushing him, dear miss Perkin’s.” The man
gave a roll of his eyes, “The path to understanding and curing
ailments of the mind is through psychoanalysis, not through doping up
patients on pharmaceuticals,” he declared firmly.

Eva was an adept young student, having been skipped ahead several
years in her youth and never slowing down on her love of learning.
She was primarily a student of psychoanalysis, but she also enjoyed
psychology and pharmacy, though her interest was less so in the
latter. Still, she studied all she could and often enjoyed blending
different theories and experiments to find her own conclusions.

“Well, we’d always have to understand before
treatment, regardless of how that goes,” she said, her voice
sounding so tempting, for some reason. There was nothing sexual in
her words, but it was threaded through what she said.

Reaching his free hand over, he very brazenly rested it upon her
knee through the fabric of her skirt. “One step at a time, hm?”
he said in a lower, softer voice than the charming, often booming,
man usually used. “Turing’s drugs can wait for another
day. You and I have more important things to focus on as we prepare
for the future,” his voice heavy with insinuation.

“Far be it from me to stare down my nose at such a lovely
opportunity, even if I do question the aftereffects,” she
teased again, her hand trailing across her purse to his hand, resting
her manicured fingers against his. “We can’t know what
the future holds, because we’ve yet to create it.”

With a light chuckle he dismissed her words as her fingers touched
his, “I’m a man who creates his own destiny, Eva,”
he said so confidently. “I don’t wait for others to
dictate it to me,” with a wide smile he leaned in, “we’d
do well together, I think. Two of the departments foremost rising
stars, united.” He was making each word sound so much more
sensual than it seemed on the surface.

Even though her heart beat faster against her ribs, she didn’t
blush, instead staring at the man placidly. “Well, I’m
willing to explore all and any options,” she smiled, her long,
dark lashes fluttering above her eyes. “So what is it you need
from me, then? After all, you make your own destiny. Am I just to sit
back and enjoy the ride? Or would you rather I take control of some
aspect?” It was almost brazen what she was saying, if it didn’t
sound so natural and on topic.

His large hand squeezed her knee, fingers rubbing her through the
fabric of her skirt. The dark haired man tilted his head and eyed her
casually, eyes partially lidded with obvious lust. “I say we
get to know one another,” he began. “As student and
teacher,” a slow grin forming on his face. “Mentor and
pupil,” and she could feel his finger brush against the back of
her neck.

“I think I can oblige you that much,” her eyes flicked
to the door, then back to the older man, a mischievous smile trailing
her lips. “I’m sure you could teach me some rather
fascinating aspects from across the sea.”

With a toothy smile beneath his well-groomed moustache, Terrance
Russell’s fingers crept along her knee, slowly tugging up the
skirt until he was touching her beneath its fabric. “You’ll
go far all on your own, miss Perkin’s, but with a charming
teacher upon your side,” his hand slid beneath her skirt along
her silk covered inner thigh a few inches, “you could go so
much further. I bet,” he remarked wryly, “you’d
make a stunning teacher’s pet.”

She leaned back against the couch, her eyelids dropping to hide
much of her brown eyes, her smile growing. “I don’t know
about that,” she cooed. “Well, I know I could go further,
but who couldn’t. As for a teacher’s pet, well, I may
just be too obstinate and held to my own ways. What could you do
about that?”

Following after her as she leaned back, he moved in just so, his
hand touching her so scandalously high up her inner thigh then, the
other touching her neck as he husked at her. “Students
sometimes need discipline to keep them progressing. To keep them in
line,” he said, a certain edge of playful authority in their
voice. “Most important of all though, they need to keep their
teacher pleased to keep advancing, hm?” His face was handsome
by most accounting, the younger of the three professors vying for her
attention. Though he obviously shaved regularly, his face held some
darkness along the jawline, and his mouth was framed with a handsome,
well groomed moustache and goatee beneath those dark eyes of his.

Her breath hitched, and had he known her better, he’d have
realized he had her just where he needed her. Perhaps he could tell
anyways, for her behaviour wasn’t strange compared to other
women, and the way her lips parted subconsciously, her torso turning
to face her blouse covered breasts at him more really all spoke to
his seduction of her mind as well as her body. “That’s
not a field I’m studied in,” she finally managed out,
some of her confidence slipping away as her thighs began to grow
heated beneath his hand. Hers still rested just atop his wrist as her
thick skirt curled around it.

Watching her subtle little reactions, he licked his own lips,
those masculine fingers of his reaching towards her womanhood so
crassly across her silk garbed legs. “You’ve never had to
earn a teachers good graces in such a manner before?” he
queried, squeezing her flesh as he looked about to jump her then and
there. “With how far you’ve gotten? I scarcely find it
imaginable,” he said in his tone that was somewhere between
joking and seductive.

She was finding herself a bit lightheaded as she stared at the
handsome man, her gaze focused on his lips as he spoke. She trailed
her tongue over her own, leaving them glossy and still partially
open, the plush mouth seemed so inviting as she shook her head.
“You’d do well to remember that I have brains enough to
succeed,” she mused back.

With a wide, amused smile he leaned in, his lips nearly touching
her ears. “Life could be so much more fun if you learned to
rely on your other assets to get you through academics now and then,”
he whispered as she felt the man's fingertip graze her panties
beneath her skirt, such a light brush it was barely felt.

Her legs had uncrossed as his hand had ascended her thigh, and
they were parted rather unlady like as he brushed that smooth digit
against her smooth undergarments. Her stockings ended just beneath
her bottom, and he could feel that soft, bare flesh against the palm
of his hand. He could feel her arousal, her heated body telling him
all she wouldn’t, and her head tilted back. She was having a
hard time thinking, toying with this man though she was, and the back
of her hat knocked against his fingers.

“Is this what you intend to teach me?” she whispered,
and he could see her breasts rise beneath her blouse, the outline of
the lace bra more visible at such a close and intimate position. “I
learn quite fast, but I’m so stuck in my ways.”

Watching her recline and grant him such access to her, the foreign
man leaned in, taking full use of her acquiescence. “You’ll
need to learn it anyhow,” he husked, his finger tip gliding
along her panties, tracing her slit as he kissed her neck. “Either
you choose me as your mentor for your future career and keep me
pleased, or...” he licked up her neck, trailing a damp line
towards her ear before husking. “You learn to make up for lost
time when I’m head of the department... perhaps on your knees,”
he teased, the line between play and seriousness almost blurred,
though she sensed it all a game still.

“What happens then when you are sent out, cast aside for a
more modest and mature version of yourself?” she paused,
sounding quite breathless as her body began to throb with want. “I
would have to spend so much time making up for things then with him,”
she purred, her voice sounding so much lower and more seductive.

His finger was petting along her slit then, stroking its length
through the smooth fabric of her panties. Bringing his other hand
down from her neck he brought his palm around her breast, squeezing
it through her top and bra. “Hardly my concern,” he said
so smugly, “but at least you’ll have had practice and
learning at my feet,” he offered before biting her earlobe, the
dashing foreigner now pressed against her body in such a way that she
could feel hardness against one of her spread legs.

She was a wanton woman, though discretion was always her highest
priority. It was one of the reasons why she often went with older,
married men, though she knew it played in nicely with more familiar
theories of a father-daughter complex. This man, however, she knew so
little about and could not be assured of such safe secret keepings.

She wanted to ask, to demand his silence, yet that arousal that
pulsed between her thighs, quickening and stealing her breath managed
only to quiet herself. Licking over her lipsticked lips, she could
taste the chemicals that brightened the flesh, and felt his breath
down along her sensitive neck.

“Then teach me what I’m to do.”

Russell’s voice was heavy too, the larger man so obviously
desperate to have her, even as he tried to so calmly stoke her fires,
stroking her heated loins through her panties and squeezing her large
breast. “A good girl knows to come to her teachers office
prettied up, in short skirts... low blouses,” he suckled her
earlobe a moment before letting it snap back out, “and an
eager-to-please attitude. After all, he holds her future in his
hands.”

Her breathing caught as her eyelids descended, those dark lashes
hiding the amorous eyes, as she pressed her heavy, covered tit into
his hand. She was a curvaceous, voluptuous woman, and her body felt
so delightful. Soft, smooth skin was carefully preened, her clothing
accentuating the largeness of her breasts, the perfect heart shape of
her pleasant rear, and the curved lines of her lovely calves.

Her youthful beauty wasn’t matched to the starlets of the
day, but she held a feminine appeal, one of sensuality and
desirability, especially for older men. Attraction was so rarely
dictated by what was popular, and far more about what was appealing.

Eva knew that she was, and the way she arched and shifted her body
for him only went to prove it, the perfect curves presented for his
eyes to feast upon as she sucked in another breath, “And if I’m
not a good girl?”

Those greedy hands of his groped and petted her as he was so
anxious to have at her flesh, and as he shifted so that he was nearly
mounting atop her then and there he muttered, “Then your grades
must simply suffer,” he said with such a delicious grin. It was
terribly obvious he wanted her badly, despite all attempts at suave
confidence.

Her eyes widened, the already large orbs staring at him in shock,
“You couldn’t!” Despite her protest, she could feel
herself grow slicker under those panties, the damp material already
having sunk between her outer lips, putting a not altogether
unpleasant pressure on her delicate sex. She sucked in a breath, her
body sat beneath his, her hand knocking her purse away and sending
her belongings tumbling over the couch and resting in the crevices.

“I would have to,” he said so assuredly, his finger
pressing into that damp thin sheath of fabric that covered her,
feeling her quim. “If you aren’t an ideal student,
showing up at my office, ready and willing to please your teacher,
well... what else am I to do?” he crooned, his hand moving from
her large bust to the buttons of her blouse, beginning to undo them
in his efforts to expose her as he shifted, trying to get between her
legs.