His Model Student: A Student-Teacher Romance

24. Keeping his distance

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[RECAP: Mr Marek has vowed never to lay a finger on Sera, but that hasn't stopped him saying some pretty explicit words to her...]

"Remember what I told you last week?" The mocking glint was back in Mr Marek's eye as Sera lay on his couch once again.

How could she forget? "Yes."

"I want that expression again from you." The art teacher was just behind the couch, rearranging the folds of the drape as they had been before. As ever, Sera felt on edge and hyper-aware of his proximity.

Despite the effect he had on her, she wasn't sure if she could just drum it up on cue. "Those things you said last week..."

Mr Marek stopped and leant down to her. "Would you like me to say them again?" His voice was low, taunting her.

That wasn't what she was trying to ask. "Did you actually mean them?" Was he just toying with her, winding her up to get what he wanted, or did he actually want to do those things to her as well?

He laughed. "Do I want to screw you? What do you reckon?"

Sera wasn't sure. "I didn't know if you were just saying it all."

"It doesn't matter whether I meant it or not, because I'm not going to lay a finger on you. You're underage, you're my student, and I want you exactly as you are for this painting."

He drew out the words "exactly as you are". She guessed he was referring to her virginity and felt humiliated.

Mr Marek saw her expression change. He moved his lips closer to her ear; she could feel the heat of his breathing by her neck. "But yes, Sera, I'm still a man. I have a young, naked, woman before me. Were it not for the fact I intend to paint you, I would like nothing more than to fuck you senseless."

Sera tried to breathe normally and not let him see the effect his words and his closeness had on her. She was pretty sure he could tell.

He dropped his voice. "And knowing that I would be your first..."

Sera caught her breath. There was nothing more she wanted in that moment than for Mr Marek to be her first. "Couldn't we?"

Please touch me. Make me yours. She didn't say out loud but it was written all over her.

But he stood up and looked down at her. "We could, but we're not going to. Not now or ever, for the reasons I've just outlined."

Sera wanted to protest. It was so unfair: him tormenting her like this, knowing full well what it did to her. "I'll be eighteen next week." It hardly made sense to wait seven more days. It was already legal.

"Not next week, Sera. Not next month, nor next year. I'm not screwing one of my pupils. But if imagining it gives you the exact expression you have now, then please hold that thought."

She couldn't think of much else when she was lying in his presence with her clothes off, watching him as he worked. His dark hair fell over his forehead and she longed to push it back. Every time he looked back at her from the easel she longed for him to change his mind, to break his resolve.

Mr Marek returned to his easel and Sera lay on the couch, once again burning with frustration and unassuaged desire.

There was silence for some time which made Sera aware of all the smaller noises around them. A lone bird outside in the wintry garden. The faint hum of the electric fire. The ticking of a clock she couldn't see. The occasional scrape of his palette knife or creak of his chair as he shifted. Her own breathing, which she tried to quieten as it seemed to echo through the room.

Then a loud, shrill ringing.

The telephone.

Mr Marek frowned. "I'll have to get it. Very few people have this number, so..."

So it might be important, even an emergency. Sera understood.

Wondering if she should have taken the opportunity to stand up and stretch while he was out of the room, Sera lay there waiting. A minute later Mr Marek returned from the hallway. "It was the hospital. My father has had a fall. I'm afraid I'll have to cut our session short today."