In Your Office Ch. 02

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Ryan has a private talk with his band teacher.
5.6k words
4.73
68.3k
62

Part 2 of the 4 part series

Updated 06/07/2023
Created 04/17/2016
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SilverMuse
SilverMuse
1,774 Followers

Wednesday

Twanging chords rippled the air. Drum rolls climbed to a crescendo, peaking and dropping off. She was onstage, fronting the band, saxophone in her mouth, each note buzzing her body while bass vibrated the floor. Spotlights burned her skin, slick with a sheen of sweat, and she was wearing— she was wearing--

No. That wasn't the wail of an electric guitar, yanking Liz out of layers of sleep. Her alarm. It was the canned music of her alarm. 4:30 am, on a school day, and for the first time since college she rolled over and hit the snooze button.

Then she stretched deliciously, buried her face in her warm pillow, and drifted back into darkness. The band was busting the windows open. Her saxophone was in her mouth. She was wearing a transparent black dress the audience could see right through, clinging to every sweaty curve. And as the music built and everyone cheered and watched — an orgasm slammed her body, onstage in front of everyone. Pleasure pulsed through her cunt in slow waves, and she just kept on playing. And — shit. The alarm again. She smacked the button with one flailing hand.

"Honey?" Rob's voice. He was whispering in her ear, shaking her shoulder. "You're going to be late."

"Umph. C'mere." Half-awake, Liz pulled him close to her, snuggling up to his warm body under the covers. She slid one hand over his briefs, searching through the cotton for his cock.

"Not now, Liz."

"Just a quickie," she mumbled. "Three minutes." He was already hard. Her body was loose and relaxed from coming in her dream, naked against the sheets. She half-climbed on top of him, squeezing his waist with her thighs. She just needed Rob's arms wrapped around her, needed his girth to slide into her moist core, and—

"I really can't, sweetie." Rob pried her fingers off his cock. "I need to go home and get my clothes before I work out. I hadn't planned on sleeping here last night." Well, she hadn't planned on him falling asleep so soon last night, either. "And wasn't last night enough for now?" From under her sleep-fogged eyelids, Liz could see that Rob was smiling, but not entirely joking.

Hang on tight, baby. This is just the beginning.

"Fine," she grunted into her pillow. "Go. Have a great day. I'm sleeping in this morning." Jabbing at the alarm clock until she'd reset it, she pulled the pillow over her head and ignored Rob's worried noises.

Waking up at 5:30 was a whole new world, Liz thought drily as she walked, not stumbled, into her brightly lit bathroom an hour later. She'd slept like a rock last night, for the first time in weeks. No tossing and turning while she ran through her rehearsal plans and to-do list. The treadmill? Forget it. Email hadn't happened. She had just enough time for a quick rinse in the steaming shower to wash off the musky scent of last night's sex. Then she pulled her long dark hair into a ponytail, sprayed on extra perfume, and drove to work with no regrets. As soon as she got in, she told herself, she'd deal with that note.

*******

Ryan Sullivan strolled down the empty hallway to the band room, carrying two cups of coffee. Until yesterday, he hadn't spent a whole lot of private time with Ms. K — in reality. In his head, in band rehearsal, he'd fucked his hot teacher more times than he could count. Pulled her naked onto his lap to tickle her voluptuous tits and finger her tight cunt while she squirmed. Pushed her to her knees to suck his throbbing cock while he played with her long silky hair. Tossed her baton across the room, flipped her onto her back, and plunged straight into her waiting pussy. And then there was that grueling rehearsal she'd put them all through before spring break, acting like a total drill sergeant and barking about triplets and pickup notes, and he'd had her hands planted on the whiteboard, her taut body bent over just enough so he could spank her and screw her at the same time. Needless to say, it really improved that 45 minutes.

Fantasies aside, he liked Ms. K. One of the better teachers in this school. She knew her shit and she obviously cared — maybe a little too much — and he respected that.

But the past two weeks, she'd turned into a megabitch. And when she'd threatened everyone with grades on Monday, steps had to be taken. As the trombone section had trudged out after rehearsal, muttering about how Ms. K needed to get laid, like, yesterday, the wheels had started turning in his head.

So he'd left a relaxing little surprise on her desk. And not just a quickie where he threw her on the piano and fucked her, though he'd fantasized about that more than once. He'd seen her rubbing her forehead in her office after rehearsal on Monday, looking so stressed. Poor baby. She needed the full treatment.

And if he'd been playing with fire yesterday morning, walking into her office so soon after she'd found the note, it had been worth it. There was the letter, lying out on her desk. And no mistake — she'd been blushing, and her hard sexy nipples, poking through her white button-down shirt, had been impossible to miss. She hadn't just read it — she'd liked it. She was all hot and bothered. He had a feeling she'd be a tiger in bed, once she let go. Maybe she'd get that boyfriend to screw her, though he doubted that was happening. Not the way she needed it.

He'd considered spreading the word about his masterpiece. Ms. K had been a lot more mellow in rehearsal on Tuesday, and the credit could pretty likely go to him. Maybe she'd even relax about docking everyone's grades. But at the last minute, he'd decided to keep the note private. It could still backfire. He could get in a fuck-ton of trouble, two months before graduation with everything lined up for college. Made these last weeks of high school a little more interesting.

Music met his ears as he walked into the band room. She must have put on a recording, all slow solo sax. But when he continued through the open door to her office, carrying the coffee, he saw her sitting in her swivel chair, one foot braced on the floor, totally absorbed in playing her instrument. He'd been hearing her.

Liz broke off in the middle of a run of notes, startled to see Ryan leaning against her bookshelf, watching her. Her eyes flicked to his buzzed blond hair, glinting under the fluorescent lights; his fitted light blue t-shirt; his well-worn jeans outlining his hard body. How long had he been there? Her skin prickled. She hadn't thought he'd actually show. The note still sat in her purse, and she'd had every intention of taking it to the office. Right now.

"I didn't hear you come in." She unlooped the saxophone strap from her neck and set the instrument on the table.

"Didn't want to interrupt." His grin tightened her stomach. Jesus, she needed to dial it down. Last night's fantasy was overstaying its welcome. "Hey, you're really good."

"Well, thanks." Over his shoulder, Liz noticed the office door. Ryan had nudged it closed it behind him. The blinds on her window were lowered and shut tight. She should really tell him to open the door, and she wasn't saying anything.

"I brought you this." He set one of the coffee cups on the desk by her elbow.

"Oh." Surprised, Liz reached for her purse. She loved coffee, but she'd broken the habit of stopping for a decent cup on her way to work every day. Too expensive. "You didn't have to do that. How much was it?"

"On me."

"Sullivan..."

"Consider it a thank you. For writing my recommendation." He pulled the form out of his bag and dropped it on her desk. "You're going to be amazed at how good your office looks."

"Kiss-up," she muttered, just loud enough for him to hear. Ryan grinned. This was the Ms. K he knew and liked. Joking and just a shade sarcastic. "I haven't made you any promises."

"You're welcome. I like your hair like that." He nodded towards her ponytail as he headed toward one of the towering stacks of files. "And you smell good today."

"Just keep it coming, Sullivan." She was trying not to smile, but it wasn't working.

Oh, I will,he thought. As she turned back to her computer, tapping the keys, he took a minute to appreciate her lush body under those all-business, all the time clothes. Her blue-and-white striped silk blouse hinted at her curves, tucked tightly into a knee-length navy pencil skirt that gave him a few ideas about the shape of her long legs underneath. From there, it was a short trip to seeing her lying on the desk, reaching for him, her blouse ripped open to reveal her voluptuous tits and buttons scattered everywhere...

"You don't need this." He pointed to a two-foot tall stack of music, sitting on top of her bulging file cabinet, that had been there before she started teaching at the school and probably since before Ryan was born. "It's all dusty and these songs suck." Before she could protest, he hefted the entire stack and heaved it into the recycling bin. "What about these binders?" He pulled a black binder off a shelf crowded with identical black binders. "Mr. Medler? Wasn't he, like, three teachers before you? Sheesh, this isn't even your mess." Ryan crammed the binders into the trash can, pushing them down firmly, while Liz blinked. Somebody, somewhere, had to have a use for those binders, right? Right? "Let's see, what else?" He took the framed photo of Liz and Rob off the shelf and balanced it delicately on the leaning pile of binders, like the cherry on a sundae. "Picture of your boyfriend that you never look at."

"Sullivan." Her voice was quiet, but there was a definite warning.

"You're right." That little grin was back. "He does such a good job holding up stuff on your shelf." Exaggeratedly, he wedged the picture back by the Bach chorales.

"You should be nicer to that picture." She was holding in a laugh. It was so obvious, Ryan thought. He'd heard her snort. "Rob's a good guy."

Rob was a limp dick. One look at the photo had told him as much. Dude was even more buttoned-up than Ms. K, without the fire underneath.

"I'm sure he's making you very happy. Giving you everything you need. Do you still want these?" Ryan pointed to a shelf groaning with magazines. "Picking up dust since 2012."

Liz covered her surprise with some well-timed coughing. Had Ryan really just said that? And why the hell had she used Rob's first name with him? Warmth crept into her cheeks, remembering last night's living room sex, Rob's strokes on her clit as she straddled him, and wanting Ryan's muscled body under her instead, his cock twitching inside her cunt, his hands all over her tingling breasts. Crossing her legs under her pencil skirt, she squeezed her thighs against a sudden throb in her pussy.

"No. I don't want those." She barely gave the magazines, or Ryan, a glance. Any longer, and her eyes would linger on the outlines of his defined shoulders and chest. Next she'd be scoping out his crotch.Get a grip, Liz."You can toss them all." Quickly, she sipped the coffee he'd brought — black, strong, fresh, and much better than the faculty room sludge — and picked up the recommendation form. "What's this number?" She pointed to the green post-it at the top of the recommendation.

"My cell." Damn, she was blushing again, Ryan thought. He hadn't thought it was possible. She looked so cute. Younger, especially with that ponytail. He wanted to walk across the office and lick her exposed neck. For a start. "In case you have questions." He tipped the magazines into the recycling bin, now overflowing. He knew he was pushing his limits, but he couldn't resist finding out just how far she'd let him go.

"How's your girlfriend?" She was looking directly at him now with those big brown eyes.

"She's good." He didn't want to talk about Audrey right now. Instead, he cocked his head toward the recommendation form in her hands. "What do you think?"

Liz read the form over, shaking her head. It was longer than she'd expected, and more detailed. "You realize this is a lot of work for me, Sullivan. At one of the busiest times of the year. We have the city jazz festival coming up, two contests, the spring concert..."

"I know you can handle it." Those blue-green eyes were heating her from the inside. The office felt uncomfortably warm all of a sudden, too small for both her and Ryan, even though he was standing by the bookshelf. Sweat pooled under her arms. "And that's why I'm doing something for you in return."

"Well, I guess it's helpful that you're here." Liz slid her squeaking swivel chair away her desk, stretched out her legs, and scanned the recommendation form, trying to stay focused. "Now that I'm getting to know you better, it'll be easier for me to describe you: persistent, tenacious, and a real pain in the ass." Whoops. Better watch it. She joked around with students — when the stress didn't drive her to pound on her music stand and threaten mass punishments — but she was careful with her language.

Ryan had clearly picked up on the tongue slip. He was grinning from ear to ear as he came over to her.

"And organized." His hand dropped to the back of her chair. Liz tensed at his nearness. He leaned over her, reading the form. "Don't forget organized."

Jesus. He was inches away from her and she wasn't just imagining the warmth from his broad chest. Perched in the swivel chair, caught between his bulk and the desk, there was no way to scoot away from him — or avoid the faint masculine scent that tickled her nose and taunted her hardening nipples — without admitting he was crowding her. Instead, she looked up at him, trying to ignore how sexy his lips looked at this range. His face was much too close to hers, and she wasn't telling him to move.

"Why do you want this? The scholarship," she added quickly.

Ryan straightened up and leaned against the desk next to her. She tried not to stare as he folded his hard biceps across his chest.

"My parents don't want to pay for it and it'll look good on my resume."

"And?" Liz frowned up at him. She'd seen Ryan getting into his car in the parking lot after a band trip. She had a hard time believing there was anything his parents weren't willing to pay for.

He smiled at her, like the two of them were in on a joke together. "You don't like those reasons?"

"Those are terrible reasons, Sullivan." She rubbed her forehead, then folded the paper and pushed it across the desk. Ryan couldn't help noticing how disappointed she looked, like he'd personally let her down. "If that's why you're doing this, then forget it. Don't waste my time."

"Okay, so you don't like those reasons. You want some other ones?" He gave her a crooked smile, but his cheeks were a little red under his blond hair. "Just being honest. That's the game we're all playing here, right? We give you what you want, you give us what we want. I'm doing something for you, you're doing something for me. At least I'm up-front about it. I'm done with high school, I'm done being treated like a kid, and I'm just watching the clock until I graduate."

Liz stared at him. Senioritis was nothing new. But hearing these words right now, from this Ryan Sullivan, with his too-attractive body, his entitled attitude, his appearance in her fantasies, and his damn recommendation that she had no time for, was too much.

"You really don't care, do you? You don't care at all about doing this for its own sake." She smacked the recommendation on her desk and leaned forward, not thinking about his nearness now. "What have you been doing in this room for four years? Do you care about music? Do you care about anything at all? Jesus Christ, Sullivan, am I sweating blood and tears for nothing?"

Ryan's blue-green eyes blinked rapidly. His mouth opened, then closed, speechless.

"Sorry," Liz said quietly. Her hands were still clenched on the desk. Slowly, she unclenched them and sank back in her chair. God. If she was alternately fantasizing about students and shouting at them, something drastic needed to happen, and soon. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lost my temper with you."

"No, I'm sorry." Ryan's gaze cut to the side, then back to her. "You're a really good teacher. It's not your fault that I'm, uh, uninspired. You're very...passionate."

She shook her head slowly. "I used to be." Was she really confiding in a student?

"You still are." Ryan put his hand on her shoulder. "I know you are." Surprised, her body tightened under his touch, but he didn't seem to think there was anything unusual about resting his hand there. His skin felt so warm through her thin silk blouse.

"You just need to relax about everything, Ms. K," he said in a low voice. Fuck, he was rock-hard, painfully hard, standing so close to her, cupping the slope of her shoulder as she stared up at him with wide dark eyes. She was voluptuous, one curve after another, but he could feel the muscle under her creamy skin. She really would be a tiger in bed. He slipped his thumb under her striped collar, stroking her warm neck in slow circles. Any second now, she'd stop him. He was walking the edge of a world of trouble. "You'll be a lot less stressed."

Hot and cold excitement rolled over Liz. The ache between her legs was back, stronger. Was Ryan really rubbing his thumb against her neck, under her collar? Yes. Yes, he was, and it felt so good. Her whole body was begging for touch. She wanted Ryan's hand to move over her neck, stroke her throat, work its way down her chest, and explore her full breasts to discover how incredibly hard and aroused her nipples were for him. And — God, no. She should stop him right now.

"We're talking about you, Sullivan." Her voice was throaty now. Her throat was dry.

"And I do care," he murmured. "I care about doing this for its own sake."

He moved behind her, sliding his hand to her other shoulder. Both his hands massaged her shoulders now, firmly working out knots she hadn't known she had. The little punk was unfairly good at this, Liz thought. Heat went through her body in waves.

"Look, the recommendation—" she began.

"Forget that right now. Just relax," he whispered, his warm breath teasing her ear and stirring her ponytail as he kneaded her shoulders. She was really letting him touch her. This had to be a dream, he thought. A very, very good dream. And he didn't plan on waking up.

When his fingers moved down Liz's shoulder blades, the tension left her body. She let out a long sigh and leaned back into his hands so completely, her head tilting back, that he almost groaned. Ryan had been with girls. He'd lost his virginity awhile ago, and there had been others since then. But he'd never experienced a woman giving herself to him so totally. Surrendering to him. Forget that they were both fully dressed — it was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen or felt.

Liz couldn't believe the way Ryan's sure strokes steadily dissolved all the built-up stress of the past few weeks — maybe years. Jesus. She was melting like warm butter with this — kid. This student. Letting him manipulate her, massage her until he got exactly what he wanted. Which was — what?

"Ryan..." she whispered.

Oh,yeah, he thought. Finally, she was saying his name. Ryan, not Sullivan. His hands traveled back over her shoulders, rubbing their way slowly toward her tingling breasts. If she was going to stop him, it would be now. Instead, she arched her back, thrusting those glorious tits toward his hands. Ryan offered up a quick prayer of heartfelt thanks.

"Yes...Elizabeth?" he whispered back into her warm neck. He was stroking the very tops of her sensitive breasts through her blouse, right where they began to swell out from her chest.

Her stomach lurched. Her panties were already moist with excitement, but a sudden gush of juice soaked them completely. If there'd been any doubt about who'd written that note to her — the note still sitting in her purse, that she hadn't finished reading and had done nothing about -- there wasn't anymore. Her breath was coming faster now. "No one calls me that."

SilverMuse
SilverMuse
1,774 Followers
12