Four –
“Alright guys, take one each,” said Natasia as she handed a stack of marbled-cover notebooks to the girl in the front row. “These are your new journals. You guys will be writing in these journals weekly, effective immediately.”
The class groaned. Natasia kept her smile plastered to her face. Aurora's eyes flickered open and shut as she struggled to stay awake. Increasingly annoyed by her own fatigue, she rested her chin against her fist, staring into space. Natasia noted the dark circles under Aurora's eyes. Her naturally pale complexion was pasty white. Natasia wondered what was plaguing the young girl's incessant thoughts.
“It can be anything creative – poetry, songs, stories, journal entries – again, I stress, anything creative, as long as it means something to you. Do I make myself clear?” continued Natasia. The class murmured in disgruntled agreement.
The bell rang. The students stood up as they stuffed their books into their bags, their desks screeching as they fought their way towards freedom.
“Aurora – hold on a sec.”
“What you want?”
“Are you getting enough sleep? You look exhausted.”
“You're telling me I look like shit?”
“No,” sighed Natasia, “You just look a bit sleep-deprived, is all. I'm worried about you. I know you probably don't want to hear this, but you can talk to me about anything.”
“You're right,” said Aurora evenly, “I don't want to hear it.”
“Okay, Aurora. I'll see you tomorrow.” Aurora gave her a tight-lipped, scathing look before trudging out the door. Natasia breathed a sigh of defeat.
Natasia walked up the flight of freshly polished wooden stairs, making her way towards Vicente's office. She knocked quietly, her fist rapping against the large, mahogany door. She studied the gold-plated sign that bore the bolded words, “Vicente Harland, Principal of Cedar Creek Academy”. She waited impatiently for an answer, fingering the paint, which was slightly ebbed off.
“Come in.”
Vicente was seated on a black leather chair, his head buried in his hands. He leaned forward, rubbing his temples, gesturing for her to take a seat. His suit was rumpled, and his tie was loosened around the neck.
“What can I do for you, Ms. Gardner?”
“Please, call me Natasia. I'm so sorry to barge in like this, but I was wondering if Aurora was doing alright at home,” said Natasia slowly, “She hardly stays awake in class.”
Vicente sighed, “To be honest – Ms. Gardner – Natasia, I can't tell you much about Aurora. As much as it pains me to say, I barely know my own daughter.”
“I'm sorry, Principal Harland, I don't mean to pry –”
“No, it's fine. You're not. I can't seem to have one conversation with her without her exploding in my face. I don't know why she resents me. She even goes by Langley now – her mother's maiden name. Her mother's been on my case nonstop, too.”
“I'll try talking to Aurora, if I can. I'm sorry to hear about all this.”
“Thank you, Natasia. You're a sweet girl,” said Vicente, his eyes twinkling.
Vicente pulled open a drawer, producing a half-empty bottle of brandy and an empty cognac glass. Natasia's eyes widened as he poured himself an alarmingly generous amount of brandy, nearing the brim. He guzzled down the golden brown liquid, sighing contently. He bent his head backwards, then side to side, his neck crackling. He groaned in satisfaction. He offered her a glass. Natasia declined, and instead, approached him.
Natasia placed her hands gracefully on Vicente's shoulders, gently kneading, the muscles on his shoulders slowly relaxing. Vicente sat up, rigid, as he felt the contours of Natasia's soft, ample breasts, pressing lightly against his back as she massaged him. His crotch began to tighten. Natasia's eyes locked on the tent of his crotch. Droplets of sweat dripped down the side of her face, her heart pounding wildly against her chest. Her breath was hot and damp against the nape of his neck. She grazed her tongue against his neck, licking a trail to his ear.
“How's that?” rasped Natasia.
Vicente's chair swiveled. He rose suddenly, snaking an arm around Natasia's waist, as he slammed her forcefully against the wall. He slid his tongue into her parted lips, their noses grinding as he kissed her hungrily. Their fingers intertwined as he moved onto her neck, interchanging warm, wet licks with tender, gentle sucking. His teeth skimmed the flesh of her skin, biting down. She gasped at the sore, sudden smarting in her neck, her knees faltering, as she felt the damp pool forming in her cotton panties. Her finger brushed against the silver band around his finger. Natasia stopped abruptly, her ears ringing.
“Wait, stop – I can't,” said Natasia, pulling away.
“I'm sorry –”
“I have to go.”
Natasia straightened her blouse as she scrambled forwards fumblingly, scooping up her red pumps. She raked a free hand through her hair, desperately licking off the lipstick smudged on her teeth. She draped her blazer around her shoulder, her fingers fumbling on the silky texture, adjusting her pantyhose at the same time.
“Hey – Natasia – wait –” started Vicente, his voice pleading.
The door swung shut behind her.