Worth Waiting For

"Yes, that would be nice," she said, clutching at her purse, briefcase and pack together. "Thank you."

"Let me help you," he offered holding out a hand.

She let him carry her pack. His kids knew the way and walked in front, joyfully comparing their prizes. "I must admit something Mr. Rousseau," she began to say.

"You can call me Paul," he said.

"Okay, Paul. I have to admire what you're trying to do. So many of my students have stay-at-home moms who have nothing better to do than shepherd their children around to school and sports and other activities. I can only imagine what it must be like for you doing all of it on your own and have to be the breadwinner too."

He held the door open for her as she slipped out into the chilly December air.

"It's not easy, but I didn't have much choice in the matter," he replied, matching her step. "I'm so busy that I don't really have time to think about it really. Well maybe at night sometimes when I wake up in the wee hours and can't fall back to sleep. Then I start to remember all of the things that have to be done in the next few days. It's at times like that when I really feel the need to have someone to share it with and help out."

They had reached her car and she fumbled with the keys to open up the trunk.

"If there's anything I can do to help," she offered cheerfully, setting her pack and briefcase in the truck, "Please let me know."

"Thank you," he said with that damned disarming smile. "I just may do that. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," she said opening her car door and slipping inside.

She tugged at the door and he gave her a little wave before heading off to rejoin his kids. She watched him walk away, and if she hadn't been sitting down she would have kicked herself in the butt. There was the perfect opening and she didn't even see it coming, and of course she had done nothing. God, I can be so dense, she thought to herself.

In the early spring the lower grades hosted a little musical event in the gymnasium. The janitors set up a series of risers and laid out rows of chairs for the parents and family. Kimberley and Alice, the music teacher, and been working with the kids every day to learn the simple songs. When the big evening arrived, she led her little charges from their homeroom into the gym where she and Alice lined them up. Since the program would take several minutes and it had been a long day, she decided to find a seat off to the side. Looking quickly she saw an empty chair and sat down, keeping an eye on her pupils. Pierre Cardin, her nose told her and she turned her head slightly and saw that she was sitting next to Mr. Rousseau, whose daughter sat on the other side. He smiled for a moment and turned his glance back to the stage where Martin was in the middle of the back row.

All eyes were on the makeshift stage as the children began their song. All eyes except for Kimberley's. She kept stealing glances at his man sitting next to her, their hips and legs mere inches apart. She could feel the warmth of his body beside her. She felt the telltale signs of perspiration grow. She folded her hands together nervously in her lap. When the parent sitting in front of her tilted her head to the side, she had to move closer to him to keep an eye on her students. Her hair fell past her shoulder and brushed against him. He looked over and smiled again before looking back toward the stage.

There was a slow almost indiscernible movement beside her, and she noticed his hand edge over from his lap to his thigh and head down toward his knee, stopping part way down. His pinky finger was a hairsbreadth away from the hem of her skirt. Okay, she thought, two can play at this game. She shifted her position in the chair and brushed her thigh up against his hand. He didn't move or even flinch, his fingers holding their position pressed against the warm flesh of her thigh. Then very slowly and smoothly his fingers began to move back and forth along her thigh, a fraction of an inch at first, then farther and farther along until they were tracing a complete path along her thigh from her hem to her knee and back. She began to feel the tingles and kept her leg pressed against him.

All too quickly the kids finished their song (dammit, kindergartner's have such a short attention span, she thought) and he raised his hands up to applaud. She joined in and the kids all beamed proudly. When the accompanist began the next song, he returned his hand to where it was, except that she had shifted as close to him as possible, so close that their thighs were touching. His palm landed on his leg but his fingertips lighted on her thigh right at the hemline. She trembled again and pressed her leg against him to keep from shaking. He didn't say a word, didn't look her way, but only cleared his voice. Her leg was on fire as she felt his finger tip slowly move up and down her thigh. She began to feel so warm and tingling inside, she flicked her tongue out to lick her dry lips. When she glanced to the side, she could see him looking at her too and nodded. She could hardly breathe from the excitement of his touch.

Then the second song ended and Alice followed up the round of applause with a bow by the children and introductions of Kimberly and Virginia, the other kindergarten teacher. Kimberley stood up for a moment to acknowledge the polite applause from the audience. There was a third and final song and she wasn't sure that she would be able to take another few minutes of this flirty little finger play. My God, why don't I just take his hand and put it where I want it to be, she asked herself. Of course his daughter was sitting on the other side, and there were parents and colleagues all around. What would they think of the prim young kindergarten teacher if they could read her mind? What would he think?

When she took her seat and he set his hand back down, hers was in place waiting. He lifted it up for a second then let it settle back down into hers and like a couple of teenagers on their first date, they sat holding hands, her small pale hand with the long fingers and painted nails resting in his large strong hands. His palm was warm, with maybe a touch of perspiration too. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the joyful clear voices of the children splash over her. Oh, let them sing this song a second time, she begged. But the song was soon over and the next thing she knew she was up from her seat and leading the children off the risers. As Alice called out her name again, she waved modestly and looked out to the crowd and saw Paul applauding, nodding his head in her direction.

Later, she stood by the door to her room watching as the kids hooked up with their parents. Among the last to come were Paul and his daughter. Martin went running out to his father's waiting arms.

"Daddy, Daddy," he shouted excitedly. "Did you see me?"

"I saw everything, Marty," Paul replied, looking up for a moment to Kimberley's smiling face.

So here she was, a month later, anxiously awaiting their appointment. It was their last conference of the school year and she had thought of little else for two days, since she could still feel the reverberations from the last time they had touched. She had practiced what she would say a hundred times in front of the mirror. Then there was the whole scene of picking out her clothes for the day, selecting just the right dress and what to wear underneath. Who knew if there would be another chance to see him, to meet him, to tell him how she felt and how he made her feel? She opened her sparkling green eyes and saw her reflection in the window; her auburn hair was cascading down past her shoulders, her pale yellow cotton dress was clinging to her figure, her hand was resting in the vee of her neckline; her eyes were twinkling lazily in the sunlight.

"Ahem," came the sound of a man clearing his voice. "Hello. Miss Maguire."

"Mr. Rousseau," she said absently, before putting on her warmest smile and turning around.

"Miss Maguire," said Leo the janitor. "How late are you going to be?"

"Oh, Leo," she said startled. "I have just one conference appointment left."

"I see," he said, looking down and away. "Well you're the last one. I'll check back in a bit later before I go home."

"Thanks," she replied.

When Leo moved off, she went back to her desk and made sure everything was ready. Her laptop computer was open to the correct spreadsheet and the hardcopy report freshly printed up. All she needed was the man. When she glanced at her watch, she saw that he was late, as usual. "This had better be worth it," she said under her breath with a smile.

"Beg your pardon," came a voice from the doorway, the voice she had been waiting for.

She looked up before saying anything again. It was Paul Rousseau this time.

"Hello. Come on in." she said waving him inside.

He was wearing a finely tailored dress shirt and tie over a crisp pair of slacks. He looked rushed and harried as if having been stuck in traffic.

"Sorry, I'm late," he said. "I had an important meeting with a client and it ran over. It seems like I'm always running late."

"Well, good things come to those who wait," Kimberley said, sitting behind her desk. Damn, what a stupid thing to say, she thought.

"Thanks," he said sitting beside the desk.

"Make yourself comfortable," she said. "I apologize for the poor air-conditioning. This weather has caught us all a bit short I guess."

That's okay," he said loosening his tie and letting the gaze of his dark eyes drift down.

She became aware that her dress was clinging quite closely to her body now and as she leaned forward to hand him the progress chart, her breasts came to rest on the desk. She could feel his look penetrate the soft cotton dress and it made her heart pound.

"Well as you can see," she said, clearing her voice, "Martin has been making great progress over the past few months." She pointed out the upward progression of his test scores and numerical grades.

The father leaned forward, reviewing the chart avidly. She leaned toward him bringing their faces closer together. Their eyes met when he looked up.

"This looks very nice to me," he remarked.

"Yes, very nice," she said, her voice wavering with emotion.

"Ahem," came Leo's voice from the door. "Miss Maguire?"

"Yes, Leo," she replied, sitting up straight in her chair.

"Since it's Friday night M'am, I'll be leaving soon. If you're going to be much longer, you'll have to leave by the office doors cause I have to lock up these out here."

"Thanks, Leo. I'll just be few more minutes."

"You're the last one, M'am. Do you want me to wait for you?"

She exchanged a look with Paul.

"No, that's okay," she said nervously, her lips trembling. "We're almost finished."

"Okay, M'am. Have a good evening," Leo said, and then was gone.

Kimberley and Paul looked back to each other for what must have been a minute. His look was penetrating her defenses, not that she would put up any.

"So, ah, do you have any questions?" she asked weakly.

"No, I think this tells a pretty nice story," he replied, leaning back in his chair. "Miss Maguire, I want to tell you what a great job you've done with Martin this year. He raves about you much of the time."

"Thank you," she smiled. She noticed that that lock of hair had fallen onto his forehead. She also noticed that his temples were glistening with sweat.

"I also want to say that I've enjoyed meeting with you during the year and appreciate all your help," he went on, his eyes not leaving hers.

"Thank you again."

"Um, may I ask you a personal question?"

"Sure, anything."

"They call you Miss Maguire. Is there a prospective Mister in your life?"

She laughed. "Not in the slightest."

"Really? I'm surprised. I would think that a lovely young woman such as yourself would have tons of guys fighting over you."

She laughed again but didn't answer. So he had been thinking about me, she thought to herself. He turned away for a moment before turning back.

"Please let me know if this sounds inappropriate, but ever since we first met last fall, I haven't been able to get you out of my mind."

"What?" she asked. "What do you mean?"

"Well ever since I met you, I've been feeling like, like a schoolboy."

"That's my line!" she blurted out. "That's how I've been feeling, like a schoolboy, I mean schoolgirl."

"I know," he said reaching over to take her hand. "I confess that I've been keeping an eye out for you but figured that there was a young man in the background. Besides, you probably wouldn't be interested in someone like me, you know, divorced, damaged goods, and all that comes with it."

"Oh, no, Paul, you've got it all wrong," she protested. "I've been the giddy schoolgirl. Every time you come near me, I get goose bumps and tremble so badly that I can't think of an intelligent thing to say."

"But you always look so pretty and appealing, and, as for that business at the musical program, I really have to apologize. That was out of order."

"Paul, have you heard a thing I've said?" she asked, leaning toward him so close that she could feel his breath on her cheeks. "I've felt the same way. Sure, you're older than I am, but I've longed to meet someone who can teach me some of the ways of the world. Just because I'm a teacher doesn't mean that I can't learn something."

He sat back for a moment and stood up. What was he thinking, she asked herself. Did I say the wrong thing? He turned and walked toward the windows. She stood up behind her desk and started to move around it toward him, but he turned back shaking his head.

"I've never been very good at this," he said, holding his hands out to his sides. "In business matters, I'm very decisive, but when it comes to my personal life, I'm a mess. My divorce has only made it worse. When I meet someone or someone tries to fix me up, even if it's someone that I'm attracted to, my shy nature takes over and I get all bound up, finding all sorts of excuses for not following through."

"Would it make any difference if I told you that I'm much the same?" she asked.

He laughed with a shrug. "Well then, what a great couple we would make!"

This was not going the way she had thought earlier. All of the wonderful things she was going to say had no meaning now. But he was looking her up and down with those great dark eyes and she could feel his look caress her like gentle fingertips, teasing her to a level of excitement that she had never known. It wasn't as if she had never been touched or had never had sex, but in his presence she felt almost like an innocent child and she wanted him to make her whole, to teach her the things that she had been denied so long, and she was determined not to let this moment escape, not this time.

"If it's all the same to you, Paul," she said moving slowly toward him, "I think we would make a terrific couple. Ever since we met, I've been having dreams about you, at night, during the day, wonderful dreams that linger on. I want you to make those dreams come true."

She was standing in front of him now, her hands resting lightly on his chest. He was warm to the touch, almost hot.

"It's the other way around, I think it would be you making my dreams come true," he said placing his hands on her shoulders. "I'm over forty years old, Kimberley. I've got kids and an ex-wife and every reason not to get involved with you. I'm too old to start all over from scratch again while you've got your life just ahead of you. And yet each time I see you, I feel this desire that I haven't felt in years."

"So here I am, your son's teacher, under thirty and never married, still waiting, still looking for that special man who will teach me all the things I long to learn. Sure I've had my share of boyfriends, but none of them ever made me feel the way you do by just looking at me."

"Isn't it funny?" Paul laughed. "I mean, here we are both coming up with reasons not to get involved, and yet, when I think about what I feel when I look at you, there isn't one good reason not to."

"Yes, silly isn't it?" she asked standing up on her toes to bring her face closer to his.

"Yes, it is very silly," he said tilting his head just enough to the side that he could bring his lips close to hers. "Silly, silly, silly."

She could feel his breath on her face, the heat of his body was tearing through her, her heart was beating wildly and she wanted to throw herself into this whirling feeling that had caught her up. As if controlled by the same hand, they moved together and kissed. His lips were warm and wet and she pressed her body forward into his. His hands slipped around her waist and pulled her closer. They kissed again and again, their lips and tongues blindly seeking out those of the other. When his tongue touched hers, the most wonderful shiver flowed through her.

"Oh, Paul," she whispered hoarsely as he began to kiss along her neck. She wrapped her arms about his shoulders and pulled herself up, pressing her breasts against his chest. "Teach me everything! I want to learn it all!"

His hands moved back up to her shoulders, and he pulled his face and his kisses away from her body.

"Oh, Jesus, Kimberley. Why are you doing this to me?"

She grabbed his tie and pulled him along as she backed up toward her desk. She pulled his face back to hers and kissed him again, hoping that the powerful feeling she had would flow through her full lips and into him.

"Paul, can't you see," she whispered into his ear as he kissed and licked her exposed neck. "Can't you feel this? I want you so badly. I want you to make love to me, right here, right now!"

"But, but this is your classroom," he protested. "I mean, you could get fired or something."

"You heard Leo. We're all alone in here and I want you so badly! I can tell that you want me!"

She perched her butt on the edge of her desk and pulled him to her.

"Right here, right now?" he asked, looking at her upturned face and stroking her cheek with his fingertips. "My God, you are so beautiful! So young and so worth the wait!"

His next round of kisses took his lips back down to her neck and down the vee of her dress. His fingers began to lightly brush her breasts and she pressed them into his hands. Her stiff nipples felt like they were going to burn their way through her clothes. When he started to unbutton her dress, her fingers dropped to her belt and quickly unfastened it and pulled it free. His fingers worked their way down just below her waist and pulled her dress open. The rush of fresh air felt refreshing, but did little to cool her flaming passion.

His tongue explored the upper curves of her breasts tracing a path along the upper edge of her sweet nothing bra, following the lacey trim from one strap to the other and back. The sheer little cups did nothing to hide her nipples that surged upward. She pulled one cup down and away and directed the rose-colored nipple to his eager mouth. She couldn't help but gasp when he sucked it and gave it a faint loving nibble. He helped himself to her other breast, pulling the flimsy lace away, kissing her soft pale flesh and sucking the stiff rosy nipple. He cupped her full breasts and flicked his tongue in a circle around each one.

"Your breasts are beautiful," he said eagerly. "Just beautiful! It's been such a long time for me, I just hope I remember how to do this."

She held his head close as he sent wave after wave of pleasure through her. Her hands took up where his had left off, unfastening the remainder of the buttons so that her dress fell away, opened fully, inviting his look and his kisses.

"My, God, Miss Maguire!" he said easing back to take a look at her. "You have a beautiful body!"

His hand moved lightly down her stomach and belly, grazing over the filmy lace panties, and then drifted lower to survey the soft plush skin of her thighs. It seemed like his fingertips sampled every bit of her skin between her panties and the lacey tops of her sheer white hose. She wanted him to touch her pussy so badly that she couldn't wait for him to make up his mind. She grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand up so that he cupped her crotch. She knew he could feel the dampness there as his fingers tenderly caressed her pussy. She spread her legs farther apart and his fingers found their way around and under the lacey panel.