It’s not every day I get summoned to the principal’s office. Actually I have never been summoned at all; I usually just stop by whenever I need too…discreetly of course. But that has more to do with who the Principal is, rather than with school business.

Today there is a burst pipe somewhere under the school’s ancient foundations, and the water has to be shut off while repairs take place – no water means no school. With all the students gone, as well as most of the staff, the school is practically empty. I walk into Marco’s office to find him seated behind his large desk. Sunlight flows through the arched leadlight windows, bathing him in glorious technicolour. With his feet up, eyes closed, muscular body reclining along his black leather chair, dwarfing it, he looks relaxed.

Just looking at his desk makes me blush brightly. I’ve lost count how many times I have been splayed across it, as Marco fucks me from behind. He almost looks angelic. A mistake many people have made over the years. Underneath the outer calm and friendliness, is the calculated control of a man who spent many years as an elite soldier. Damn, this man turns me on. He opens his eyes and holds me with an unreadable stare. “Hey angel, what’s up? I hear you have been very crabby today.”

Boy! A few terse words to an inept colleague and I’m hauled in to the principal’s office like a naughty child. Flashback to my own high school years. “Seriously? If Janet could actually do the job she was hired to do, I wouldn’t get so crabby. That woman has as much inspiration as a deflated balloon. It’s no wonder her students fall asleep!” I huff childishly, as I slump down into one of the two chairs situated in front of his desk.
Hearing Marco’s throaty chuckle rumble through his chest, ends my tangent and relief washes over me. Obviously I’m not in that much trouble. He moves around his desk to stand in front of me, and casually leans back with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

His pelvis is now level with my eyes. He’s playing dirty. The smile that breaches his mouth tells me he knows it too. I draw my eyes slowly up over his body, smiling as I take in the bulge forming in the front of his pants, and up to his face and register the concern in his eyes.
“What’s really going on Skye?”

My new found relief quickly deserts me. A quiet groan escapes my throat, as I am once again weighed down with the guilt I have been feeling ever since I decided to end my relationship with my boyfriend, a few weeks ago.

“I thought Ryan was the one, you know? I thought he accepted my need to be sexual. My need to explore and find what it is that I want…and need, sexually. And he was, well, up until he turned in to a possessive jerk. How did I get that so wrong?”

“I don’t think you got it wrong. I think he changed his mind, or maybe he was that way all along, and pretended not to be just to get close to you. At this point in your life, you are not after a white picket fence, or babies, and it’s obvious to everyone who knows you. And you certainly made it clear to him from the start.”
“I did, didn’t I? I just feel guilty, and a little sad, that’s all. Maybe I want something I can never have.”

“Never feel guilty for who you are, angel. Too many people live their lives suppressing their sexual desires and die thinking coulda, woulda, shoulda. That’s not who you are. When you figure out what you want, what it is you need sexually, there will be a man waiting for you. But there’s no hurry.”