The library floor creaked as I made my way to the table. The echoes lingered as I sat.
The high ornate ceiling was bathed in a warm tungsten glow and the bookcases were adorned with perfectly aligned leather bound tomes. An odour of polished wood permeated the room.
The headmaster picked up a crisp sheet of paper from the table and rustled it absently, taking the time to look at each member of the committee in turn.
When his eyes met mine I couldn’t help holding my breath and I’m sure my cheeks flushed.
He raised an eyebrow while his lips betrayed the slightest of smiles.
I looked down to the gleaming table, the very surface of which promptly disclosed it’s own secrets.
I recalled it’s freshness on my naked body and the heat of his lips crushed against mine. I remembered the unacademic echoes of his laboured breathing mingled with my melodic lustfulness.
I relaxed and smiled.
He smiled back.
Satisfied, he took a deep breath.
“Right, shall we proceed?”
This weeks Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers prompt was provided by © TJ Paris. Thanks TJ!