Mr. McCartney

awfully irresponsible fling

The next time Mr. McCartney had the young vulnerable Elizabeth all to himself, it occurred to him that the ruthless love making he performed with her was—although incredible—all for a reason. He found her utterly irresistible, but with the new weight he was carrying on his shoulders, this entanglement was a window for escape, a place to go with nothing attached other than the few words they would yell for each other in the heavenly embrace. Was it really? Was it only an awfully irresponsible fling?

He felt so guilty, so guilty he began to feel insane. He was putting this young girl in a position she shouldn't have to experience. But she wants to be with him, that was his only sane thought in the entire ordeal.

The more his wife would talk about the baby that was to be his child some day frightened him, but not as much as it did when Lizzy came to mind. Every moment he wasn't around her, he wanted to be. He wanted to feel her lips on his, her delicate little fingers in his hair and on his back, the tender skin of her arms and thighs, her soft belly, the neck that awaited his lips. It drove him mad that she was the only thing he ever wanted to think about, and that he didn't know why he suddenly wanted to stop.

He knew he had to sit her down and try to explain these strange feelings he had swirling away inside of him. How was he supposed to? What was he supposed to say?

Elizabeth, this relationship we have is purely fabricated, you are my student, and I'm a married man, it's irresponsible that I feel anything for you—

That was nonsense, he didn't have any type of feelings for her, other than attraction and wanting to fuck her brains out anytime he saw her. But he also didn't want anyone to do that to her, he wanted to be the only person to have that privilege.

What was he tangled up in?

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He was sat so still when she walked into his room it made her uncomfortable. He wasn't as forceful or charismatic with his lecture as he normally was. Why was he suddenly such a moody mess? She wasn't sure if she should stop to speak with him, so she waited until the end of the day because she knew she had to. She was the cause of his unrest, and she knew it.

She rubbed his neck and shoulder when she approached him, hearing him sigh as he leaned his head back.

"Mr. McCartney...why so stressed?" she whispered in his ear, making him slightly smile.

He shrugged and shook his head, swiveling his chair to look at her. Her tiny skirt made her look so young, and it made this situation harder for him.

"Lizzy, we need to have a little talk," he brushed at his beard and reached for her hand.

She let out a stiff laugh. "This doesn't seem like a good talk." She dropped his hand and leaned against his blackboard. He turned to face her.

"It's important alright, I'm very confused right now," he covered his face with his hands and took a deep breath.

"What's so confusing? I know this thing we have is illogical and it can get overwhelming, but you made me realize that you can easily get over that. We both know how hard it is to stay away from one another," she was looking at her shoes, hoping this wasn't the end to whatever it was that was going on between them.

"Yes, I know that Lizzy. But I care about you, and with me thinking about fatherhood it somehow makes me feel even guiltier than I already am."

She sucked in her bottom lip. "But why does caring about me scare you so much? I care about you too, so—"

He stood up, "Yes but I'm not supposed to love you Elizabeth, but I do."

His eyes held that familiar hurt that she didn't like to see, and he was looking at her for some type of a "help me out". But what was she supposed to help him with?

"Paul?"

He and Elizabeth's faces had to be as white as the walls around them when they recognized the lady in the doorway.

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a short chapter, but needed this out. i've been a bit busy. see you in the next one ;) xx