Art for the sake of... (closed)

[SecondHandLion]

Scarritt College was a liberal arts institution in a sleepy little town along the Carolina/Tennessee border. Like many such colleges, it had been founded in the 19th century as an institution of higher learning by a particular Protestant sect, and by the beginning of the 21st century, had become thoroughly secularized. It was a place of progressive professors who safely scorned the institutions of capitalism from the safety of their tenure, old brick buildings occasionally scoured of the ivy that threatened to cover windows and side doors, and boast a population of students from every corner of the world. It had a mathematics program that was routinely heralded as being in the top fifty such programs in the US by various media sources, and a classical dance program that had produced its share of performers for various companies in the major metropolitan areas of the US and Canada. Scarritt also had more mundane educational programs whose successful students, though not lionized by the college's community relations officer, still performed admirably in those jobs often overlooked by society, except when there were none to perform their tasks.

Scarritt College also had James Delaney.

Dr. James Delaney, professor of philosophy, was "a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma". A man in his mid-forties, his thick short hair and equally short beard had started turning gray in his thirties, and gave his weathered, stern face the appearance of a battleship about to launch itself into battle on the stormy sees. This was reinforced by his trim, muscular, six foot two body and the fact that there was always some emblem of his service in the Marines on his attire, even if it was just a tie pin.

One would think that this would make Dr. Delaney the sole bastion of conservative thought in the liberal wilderness that was Scarritt College. One would be wrong.

Delaney was an active environmentalist, sometimes radically so. He had been arrested on more than once occasion during protests, and even had received a stern warning from the college's chief legal counsel about his extracurricular activities. He had his own vegetable garden, shopped at the local farmers' market, either walked or rode his bicycle everywhere, had arranged to have some of the leading environmentalists in the world speak at Scarritt, and had been the driving force to have the college go to renewable energy sources as well as observe Meatless Monday at on-campus dining facilities.

Delaney was equally driven in his classes in the Philosophy Department, making him a favorite.

But his great passion was teaching the "History of Art" class every semester. He also felt that it was the albatross hung around his neck.

How does a Philosophy professor end up teaching a sophomore level class that many students take for their humanities requirement? For one, Delaney was an eclectic aficionado of art, knowing something about art from around the world and in all time periods. He was equally comfortable talking to his students about Da Vinci or San Gaku (Japanese temple geometry). Delaney also had a lot of friends in the college town's art community. And finally, there was the fact that since the class itself was a graduation requirement, it tended to attract students who weren't all that interested in art itself, but only what they hoped would be an easy class to get a requirement for graduation out of the way. It wasn't a hard sell to the Dean to let Delaney teach the class, so that the members of the Arts Department could focus on students who really wanted to be there.

Delaney found early on that the majority of questions he got were basically variations of "Will this be on your exams" and "How big a part of of our grade is this going to be?" Delaney did everything he could to spark an interest in his students, including arranging extra credit lectures on Monday evenings by local artists. Artists who did everything from welding their art to weaving fallen limbs into artistic structure. Occasionally he did nurse a spark of true interest, but more often not, he felt as if he was throwing pearls before swine. Still, he drove forward with all the force of his will, for the sake of those few he could reach.

As he sat in his office in the philosophy department, catching up on his papers, he decided that today had not been a good day. A portrait of Agnes Sorel had come out of a private collection that week, and Delaney used the news to discuss the treatment of the human body during the Early Renaissance. With the exception of one member of the class humming a few bars of "We saw your boobs", it was another dull reaction.

It's not an honors class, Delaney reminded himself as he began reading an essay on one of the letters from Seneca.

 

[slut_in_white]

Madeline Hemmingway loved her school. It carried all of the air of academia that had made her fall in love with the idea of university as a child. Of course, the programs were top-notch and the faculty very talented in all manner of subjects. Scarritt was one of her top 3 picks for potential universities when she graduated high school, but a single visit to the campus had sealed it as her favorite.

That it was far from home helped as well - the sense of independence that came of living in a different time zone from your parents was quite thrilling, initially, and after the thrill wore off, she flourished. Her parents had been... unusually protective of her, to be gentle in describing it, so having the freedom to go out as she wished and get into trouble was wonderful, though Madeline's personal brand of trouble wasn't exactly average. Most students went out to bars all night and got into trouble getting DUIs or falling asleep on some stranger's couch. Madeline lacked any desire to engage in those sorts of things. Her trouble was more directed, so to speak.

Online, she was a fury, finding and revealing secrets that shouldn't be kept. Her most recent targets had been farms protected by the new, so-called ag-gag laws. If revelations of brutal animal cruelty were illegal, then Madeline was happy to reveal them anonymously online instead. She was painfully shy in real life, so she could never find the courage, or the skill in deception, to perform the filming itself, but she was developing a reputation for being able to release such footage without putting the filmer (or herself) at risk.

Of course, no one on campus knew that. Some professors might have had an inkling, thanks to her eloquent and passionate writing on certain essay topics, but it was unlikely any of them would have guessed the extent of her "work." In the physical presence of other people, she was quiet as a mouse, very reserved, and very shy. She was short, not much more than 5'1", with a slight, petite frame. She had dark, smooth long hair, lovely pale skin, thick dark lashes framing wide green eyes, and a slight dusting of freckles across her nose. She tended toward comfortable clothing - tights and soft sweaters, or jeans and t-shirt. Not exactly haute couture, but she was cute enough.

She spent most of her time in the math building - with technical skills like hers, it should not have been surprising that she ended up in such a competitive math program. She did well, but it wasn't easy; she'd been the smartest kid in her class in high school, but so had every other of her fellow students here. It wasn't easy for any of them to keep up, but Madeline had something most of them didn't: a love of and talent for non-technical fields. She was as comfortable discussing Shakespeare as she was discussing Newton. And, as a result, she was happier than anyone else in her class for the breadth requirements in their degree. For them, it was that they had to take classes in the art faculty. For her, it was that she got to.

Of course, the professor who taught her art history course played no small part in why she adored the class so much. He was intensely passionate about his subject, with a breathtaking depth of knowledge. She often wanted to raise her hand and ask more about a given subject, but in a class of 300 other silent students who would resent her for making them learn more than they absolutely had to, she didn't have the courage to do so.

Today, he was talking about Agnes Sorel - a king's mistress famed for the beautiful and erotic portraits her lover had commissioned of her. Professor Delaney stood at the front of the class, talking about the idealization of her by the artist, about the perfection of her skin, about the tempting smoothness of her coyly revealed breast... And one of the students started whistling a song, causing the rest of the class to break out into giggles. Professor Delaney looked more resigned than annoyed, and Madeline had to roll her eyes. She wanted him to talk more about the artists, about how Sorel exemplified the ideals of beauty at the time. The passion in his voice and in his eyes was incredibly sexy. She blushed at the thought. She knew she had a rather inappropriate crush on him. It felt like something that only happened in high school. She had thought she was beyond such childish fantasies, but how was she supposed to help herself? His age only made him look refined. Sometimes she could see his muscles moving under his shirt and she found herself wondering how he looked without a shirt. He was everything the boys in her classes were not - brilliant, charming, mysterious... And she was probably never going to have him. She was not so arrogant as to think a man like him would want an inexperienced girl like her, so she resigned herself to the simply pleasure of watching him speak, and her own secret fantasies.

 

[SecondHandLion]

Delaney had just finished reviewing another essay when there was a knock on his office door. Looking up, he was greeted by the grinning features of the department's theologian, a potbellied man with a fringe of pale red hair around his scalp with the unlikely name of Dr. Chauncey Prakash Pitts and the even unlikier moniker of 'Cherry', at least among his colleagues in the department.

"We're heading over to the Tan and Thrush, Jim, if you want to join us," Cherry said, leaning against Delaney's office doorway. "Nothing like warm beer and cold beef for impromptu departmental gatherings."

"Tempting, but I've got miles to go," Delaney responded, lifting up one last essay. "Besides, it's Monday and..."

"And you are afflicted by the curse of social awareness. You should reconsider though. After all, Descartes himself said Ego cibum, ergo sum." The last was added with a broad grin.

"If I were the type to throw verses at a theologian," Delaney countered, "I might throw something from Romans back at you. If I were the type to throw verses at a theologian."

"Wise beyond your years you are, James, wise beyond your years," Cherry replied, before picking up a small bust of Hipparchia's head that Delaney kept on one of his shelves. "Anyway, this saucy wench thinks you should join your colleagues for a night of beer, beef and...and...damn it, I have no alliteration for gossiping about our fellow educators. Anyway, she thinks you should go, don't you Hippy?" Cherry made the bust nod several times.

"Don't do that," Delaney replied. "She's a married woman. Crates wouldn't approve." Cherry promptly put the bust back in its place.

"And if i were the sort to butt my head repeatedly against a brick wall," Cherry continued, "I might point out that you'd have more free time if you left a certain art class in the hands of the art department. If I were that type."

"Fortunately you're not that type," Delaney observed. "Give all my best, have one for me, and all that."

"I'll leave you to your rock, Sisyphus," Cherry said as he departed.

A few minutes after Cherry left, Delaney looked up at the bust of Hipparchia. "You really didn't think I should have gone, did you?" The bust remained silent. "Didn't think so."

And so James Delaney's office cast the single light from the otherwise dark building of the Philosophy Department as evening fell on the campus of Scarritt College.

 

[slut_in_white]

Madeline was the type of girl to have a few very close friends instead of many. One such friend was a loud red-head named Meghan. She and Madeline, despite being practically best friends, were incredibly different. Meghan was confident, loud, and very popular. Her clothes were bright and revealing and she always had several guys anxious for a chance with her. She and Madeline had taken a class together in first year and ended up remarkably close.

And Meghan knew about Madeline's crush on Professor Delaney. "So why not say anything?"

Madeleine's blushed, twisting around in her desk chair to face Meghan, who was stretched out on her bed reading. She blushed brightly. "He'll say no!"

Meghan rolled her eyes. "So? If he says no, you're not going to be any worse off than you are now, right?"

"Except I'll be humiliated!" Madeline argued, her face still cherry red.

Meghan rolled her eyes. "Okay, then be more subtle. Go to his office hours, feel him out."

Madeline hesitated. "I... Is that really a good idea?"

"What's the worst that could happen? Nothing, and you still get to spend some time talking with him about art, which you'd like anyway."

"O-okay..." Madeline said hesitantly.

Meghan grinned wickedly and pulled Madeline up out of her chair. "Perfect! Now we just have to get to something to wear!"

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?!"

-------

And that's how Madeline ended up walking to Professor Delaney's office, pulling uncomfortably at her clothes, anxious to get inside. She wasn't used to getting attention, but with the short skirt and plunging v-neck that Meghan had put her in, she'd received a couple of catcalls already.

She was clutching her textbook to her chest when she scurried into the building, relieved to be indoors. She'd seen his light on outside. It seemed like he was the only one left in the building. She took a heavy, deep breath once she reached his door, trying to calm her jangling nerves, and knocked.

"H-hello professor," she said softly, internally cursing at how nervous she sounded. "I was hoping maybe you could answer a few questions about today's lecture. If you don't mind, I mean. I know it's kind of late..."

 

[SecondHandLion]

Delaney was lost in an essay's discussion on the temperance in language used by Lucilius when he heard a knock on his door. Expecting to be left to his own devices for the rest of the evening, it took his mind a few seconds to correlate the sound of knocking with the fact that someone was actually at his door knocking, wanting his attention.

When he looked up, he simply stared. At the door was not simply a person trying to get his attention. It was a very lovely young woman trying to get his attention. A very lovely young woman dressed rather provocatively, even if the books she was holding to her chest blocked part of the tantalizing view.

The higher functions of Delaney's brain were still lingering over Seneca's semantic quibble over the definition of the words 'pleasure' and 'joy', and thus took a few moments to actually identify the young woman at the doorway as Madeline Hemmingway. This was not a difficult task to do, as Madeline's papers and tests were consistently the only ones in Delaney's History of Art class that showed she not only knew the material covered, but appreciated it. What delayed the identification of Madeline by the higher functions of Delaney's brain was that the Madeline in class dressed in a rather unassuming fashion. The one in front of Delaney...

While the higher functions of Delaney's brain sorted all these things out, his lower functions were content to let him sit and ogle for approximately twenty seconds.

Finally, Delaney shook his head as if coming out of a deep sleep. His cheeks turned slightly pink as he looked down at the papers on his desk. "Forgive me, Ms...Hemmingway, isn't it? I wasn't expecting anyone this late, so you caught me unawares." Delaney raised his head and pointedly focused on Madeline's face. "It's past my normal office hours, but I certainly don't mind addressing any of your questions."

 

[slut_in_white]

Professor Delaney simply stared at her for a moment, making Madeline shift a little under his gaze, uncertain of what he was thinking. His eyes slid down her body, but she mistook it for him looking at her book. A moment later, a light went on in his eyes and he smiled at her, saying that she'd taken him by surprise, but that he'd be happy to answer her questions.

She felt a slight blush rise of her cheeks and felt ridiculous for the pleasure she felt at something as simple as him remembering her name, which only made her blush brighter. She ducked her head, smiling slightly. "Thank you, sir." She stepped into the office and took a seat next to him, putting her textbook down on the table. "So, um, today in class, when we were talking about Agnes Sorel... she was crowned and depicted as the Virgin, but she was basically um..." She stopped, blushing at the direction of her question. She cleared her throat. "I mean, she kept her around to sleep with him, right? Doesn't it seem, I don't know, odd to depict her as virginal?"

 

[SecondHandLion]

When Madeline placed her textbook on the table Delaney had been working at and took a seat next to him, he was momentarily mesmerized both by her proximity and the cleavage she revealed. He immediately chided himself.

Dammit Delaney, you're not eighteen anymore. Your brain isn't suppose to seize up due to testosterone overload. The question Madeline poised didn't help, but Delaney rationalized that his reactions were due to the sudden impact of seeing a student in an outfit she probably didn't think was appropriate for class. He forced himself to mentally shake off the effect.

"The word you're looking for is mistress, Ms. Hemmingway, " Delaney began, asserting an academic tone for his own sake. "And she was considerably more than a sexual partner to Charles the Seventh. Many think she was one of his closest confidantes. In fact, it is supposed that Charles' son, Louis the Eleventh, had Agnes poisoned because of her influence over his father."

"As to the depiction of Agnes Sorel as the Madonna, it was the Middle Ages," Delaney continued, "so it was not unusual to take a patroness, or the 'significant other' of a patron, and portray her as the Madonna. However, artists were moving toward the expression of the sensual. One could argue that Agnes' bared breast didn't represent nourishment for the child on her knee, but was presented as ornamentation, a delight for the observer's eyes. We see this theme echoed in the sonnets introduced by Petrarch, where the breast is compared to snow or other terms borrowed from astronomy or biology. Indeed, in later paintings in the era, we see the furthering depiction of the sensuous by the introduction of the male hand cupping the breast in many paintings." Delaney became suddenly aware of Madeline's cleavage again as he waxed on about the celebration of the female breast in Renaissance Art and brought himself to an abrupt halt. "My apologies for going on, Ms. Hemmingway, but I hope my answer provided some usefulness."

 

[slut_in_white]

His voice sounded even better up close.

Madeline gave her head a shake. This was getting kind of ridiculous. She really did have a few questions for him, and she really had been disappointed that he hadn't been able to continue his discussion of the painting of Agnes Sorel because of the immaturity of her classmates. She really didn't need to start ignoring him now, too, in favor of her own fantasies!

Forcing herself to calm down a bit, she listened to what he was saying and soon found herself in rapt attention, fascinated by the story of a remarkably powerful woman who was much more than Madeline might have guessed. She scooted a bit closer, this motion entirely innocent, out of a simple desire to more readily engage him in conversation. Of course, she realized after a moment what she'd done, and blushed, but then the voice of Meghan drifted through her head: Closer! Don't chicken out now! She found she couldn't quite bring herself to move, but she did noticed that her leg was now barely an inch from his... Clearing her throat, she pushed her smooth, bare leg a tiny bit closer to him, until her calf brushed up against his.

Her mind screamed at her, demanding to know what she thought she was doing. This was supposed to be an academic conversation! And so she continued; "I-I thought sexuality was rather suppressed in the Middle Ages. Why wasn't it a scandal for a painter to depict a woman's breasts as ornamentation then?" She took a deep breath, her nerves making her breathing come quick, her own breasts heaving visibly.

 

[SecondHandLion]

Delaney was acutely aware of Madeline's bare calf pushing up against his, and her closeness allowed Delaney to look down her cleavage and admire her rapidly rising and falling breasts. It took all his willpower not to take advantage of the view offered. His brain (and other parts) were also screaming at him, telling him that the girl was offering herself to him, and that he should take her up on her offer.

The abstinent lifestyle that Delaney had forced on himself for some years was not helping him, but in the end, he told himself that even if she were offering herself to him, which he did not believe, it still wouldn't make it right for him to take advantage of her. So Delaney made no move toward Madeline.

But neither did he make a move away from her.

"There is a two part answer to that question, Madeline....Ms. Hemmingway," Delaney corrected himself instantly. "The first is that Agnes Sorel was attached to one of the most powerful men in Europe. Kings are not obliged to follow the customs of the common man. Consider the fact that Agnes Sorel was the first officially recognized royal mistress. There is a line from a comedic movie which explains the sentiment perfectly: It's good to be the king."

"The second is that painters and sculptors in Italy were rediscovering the classical creations of Ancient Greece and Rome. This celebration of the beauty and grace of the human form expanded from cities like Florence and Venice and moved north. Among artists and their patrons, there didn't seem any reason to deny the appreciation one could have for a lovely pair of breasts." As he made the last statement, Delaney found his gaze drifting toward Madeline's cleavage; he quickly averted his eyes. "That is to say, although the clergy and peasantry might have objected to the reintroduction of sensuality in paintings such as that of Agnes Sorel, it was generally accepted by the people who created these works of art, or sponsored them."

 

[slut_in_white]

Madeline nodded, listening intently to Professor Delaney's explanation. Once he finished, though, the next question that popped into her head felt a bit more inappropriate... but it was still related to art and art history, so was it really a bad thing to ask it? Especially since it had been somewhat difficult to miss the way he was beginning to struggle to keep his eyes on her face. She couldn't believe this was working - at least, to the point where he'd noticed her as more than a faceless name on some of the better papers submitted for his class.

Her cheeks flushed and she averted her gaze, slightly embarrassed by what she was going to say next. "Even..." She couldn't convince herself to speak up much more than a whisper because of the nature of her question, so she stopped, cleared her throat, and leaned in a little closer to him. The calf against his leg slid forward slightly to help her maintain her balance, dragging the full length of her calf along his and finishing by hooking her leg ever so slightly around his. "Even so far as to allow painters to depict the act of sex itself?" She paused, her gaze darting down to her own chest for a moment, before she finally looked up at him again, her cheeks brilliant with flush. "Unless there's some other context in which a man would cup a woman's breast like you mentioned..."

 

[SecondHandLion]

"Yes, well," Delaney stuttered out, having to look away from Madeline's flushed, uplifted face so that he could hide the desire that he felt was clearly etched on his own,"That question clearly moves the discussion from the Renaissance movement to the subject of aesthetics and normative value theory." And since it does, Delaney's mind screamed at him, now is a good time to end this conversation and make sure you only see this girl during class and regular office hours, when there are other people around.

Delaney made no move to send Madeline on her way, but he consoled himself with the fact that that he hadn't made a move on the girl herself.

Yet.

Delaney loosened his collar, then placed both his hands firmly on his knees before continuing.

"The argument could be made that the, uh, act you described, the, um, cupping of a bared breast, could be merely one of aesthetic appreciation, rather than a sexual one. For example, I might note, as an example, that you are a very beautiful young woman..." Delaney was deliberately looking away from Madeline when he made this statement "...but the observation does not have to, um, couple itself with an action."

A part of Delaney's overheated brain told him he was babbling pure nonsense, but since valuable blood was being diverted elsewhere, that part of his brain didn't have the energy to assert its argument.

 

[slut_in_white]

There was a moment of silence while Madeline absorbed this new information. The academic content of his explanation took no more than a split second for her to understand, but the rest of it was far more difficult... and admittedly far more interesting.

For example, I might note, as an example, that you are a very beautiful young woman...

He thought she was beautiful? He was barely able to even look at her. And that's when Madeline realized that her intentions and desires were far, far more mutual than she could ever have hoped. He was stuttering, something he never did in class, and yet instead of making him sound confused, the slight strain in his voice was even more attractive, largely because it was becoming more and more clear that she was the cause of that strain.

He seemed somewhat uncomfortable, as well, which was nearly the only thing that kept Madeline from becoming too forward. She wanted him, yes, but she liked him, too, and she found she didn't want him to feel uncomfortable. Her desires still outweighed that concern, enough that she didn't leave, but not enough to prevent her from at least considering his feelings on the matter. And so, at the very least, she would continue with the pretext of this conversation being an academic one, despite the fact that the pretext was becoming very, very thin.

...but the observation does not have to, um, couple itself with an action.

"It doesn't have to..." she agreed softly, leaning slightly further toward him. Carefully, hesitantly, she placed one of her small, soft hands on his thigh, just above where his hand was resting on his knee, and used that as an excuse to lean slightly closer again. Their faces were drawing dangerously close, and she couldn't keep her gaze on his eyes any longer, instead finding herself staring openly at his lips. "...but why should it not?" She paused, then added, just to maintain the thin veil of academic conversation. "I-I mean, if they can claim that the, umm, cupping of the breast is in aesthetic appreciation... c-could they not then claim the same about, um, touching... other parts of the female nude?"

 

[SecondHandLion]

Delaney was very much aware of the presence of Madeline's small hand on his thigh, but desperately tried to ignore it.

"I think..." Delaney found his grey eyes lost in Madeline's green ones, and his mouth stopped uttering a sound for a few seconds that stretched into eons "...I think this matter is addressed in such works as Botticelli's Birth of Venus, where the hand and hair of Venus are used to conceal her..." Delaney cheeks turned red as he found himself unable to finish his sentence. "Her other hand appears to attempt to protect the modesty of her breasts, but they are still available for the aesthetic appreciation of the observer." Delaney's final observation was made as Delaney's gaze once again drifted to Madeline's cleavage.

 

[slut_in_white]

Madeline's heart was beating hard out of her chest, and she found herself struck with the urge to kiss him. Accompanied, of course, by the same panicky fear of rejection that ensured she would probably always been known as shy. The fact that she'd gotten herself this far was, alone, a miracle, and probably said a lot about just how much she desired her professor. It was more than just an intellectual crush, though his intellect alone would have been enough to draw her desires. He was very charming, his manner of speaking always comforting and always interesting. And while she'd sort of noticed the suggestion of fitness that was left by the way he moved at the front of the lecture hall, she couldn't deny it now that she could see the slight bulges of his arms under his shirt, see the muscles of his neck meeting his clavicle, and feel the hard muscles of his thigh under her hand.

And he wanted her. There was no mistaking the way his gaze found its way to her exposed cleavage again, the way his breathing was coming harder, the way the material at the crotch of his pants was beginning to strain... Madeline's face grew a little more flushed, but this time with pleasure at the idea of being desired by a man like him.

"But..." Her voice cracked and she had to start again. "But isn't there a difference between a hand protecting the woman's modesty, and a hand cupping the breast? I... I would think that a hand cupping the breast is less an attempt at modest and more an, umm, offer. A-as if the hand were offering the female to the male viewer..."

 

[SecondHandLion]

"A matter of perception," Delaney finally managed to reply. His eyes had moved from Madeline's decolletage to her captivating green eyes as he felt the near irresistible urge to capture her delicate lips with his.

Get control of yourself, Delaney, he shouted inside his skull. End this now.

Instead, Delaney continued the veneer of the conversation.

"The position of Venus' hand suggests timidity," Delaney managed to muster. "I, um, I think that to give weight to your argument, her hands, her actions would need to be more provocative."

 

[slut_in_white]

Madeline licked and then chewed her lip for a moment while she considered that. "I... I must have misunderstood. I thought you had suggested that there were other paintings in which the male hand was, um, cupping the breast. Is that not more ah... provocative than the Venus?"

Using her leg hooked around his, she drew her chair slightly closer to his, until her knee was pressed up against the edge of his seat. The motion just "happened" to move her close enough that her hand on his leg needed to move slightly further up his thigh in order to remain comfortable.

 

[SecondHandLion]

"Yes, um, the male hand," Delaney responded, suddenly aware of not only both his hands, but of the movement of Madeline's hand as well.

"You, uh, are very correct, Ms. Hemmingway. We were discussing the position of the male hand in the paintings of the era, and not restricting ourselves to those of the women at the center of the portrait." Delaney watched in horror, fascination and expectation as his right hand moved on its own volition, rising up and using his fingertips to barely graze across Madeline's cheek. "I...still...there are different emotions...evoked...by the male hand. Not just...softness...." Delaney knew his words were no longer making anymore sense, and that he should stop now, within sight of the line he had just crossed, but his body no longer responded to his commands. His hand continued slowly and gently caressing Madeline's face, exploring the lines and curves of her face, her inviting lips, the soft heat of her skin...everything.

 

[slut_in_white]

The roar of the blood rushing in her ears that resulted from the first, hesitant brush of Professor Delaney's hand on her face was enough to completely drown out the words that followed, so she didn't even hear the fact that he'd rather stopped making sense. As his hand grew boldly, caressing her skin, her eyes fluttered shut and her lips parted in an expression of pure pleasure.

She forced her eyes open as the pad of his thumb brushed over her full, soft bottom lip, leaving a tingling trail on the sensitive skin there. She met his gaze and her breath caught. There was an incredible intensity in his eyes, as well as a certain amount of... what was it? Fear seemed too strong a word, but certainly an awareness that they were breaking every rule and every taboo in the book. And yet, Madeline found that she liked the way this made her feel. That it was against the rules made it better. After all, it wasn't as though he was manipulating her in any manner. There was no coercion or anything else untoward. They were both consenting adults. The rules against this seemed unfair in their particular situation, and Madeline always had taken great pleasure in breaking rules she deemed unjust.

Their lips were only inches away now, and feeling bolstered by his clear lust and her sudden sense of righteousness in shattering these particular rules, she seized a moment of courage, quashed the shy little voice in her head that was panicking, and pushed herself toward him. Her lips crashed suddenly into his, and her free arm wrapped around his neck, pulling herself up to him. She stood out of her chair only for long enough to climb instead into his so that she was kneeling astride his lap. Finally freed of the only remaining distance between them, she pressed her body into his and kissed him fiercely.

 

[SecondHandLion]

Everything...his fears, his hesitations, his self-denial...all disappeared as Madeline's lips crashed into his. As she moved into his lap, his hands unhesitatingly moved to her back, pressing her body into his. As the kiss deepened, Delaney realized he was on the verge of losing himself to the moment. Before he did, there was one thing he had to do.

Gently but firmly, Delaney broke the kiss, and pushed Madeline back just enough so the he could look her in the eyes. His hands moved up to cup her beautiful face, and for a moment he allowed himself to be in awe of the passion, the intelligence, the faith, the trust...the beauty that radiated from the face he held in his hands.

"Ms. Hemm---Madeline," he began, his voice low, soft and steady. "Before we go any further, I believe that it might be best for us to go somewhere that we don't run the risk of being interrupted." Delaney slowly slid his hands from her face, over her shoulders and arms to her hands. He brought them both to his lips, giving them a soft kiss before releasing them. "And it will give us time to talk. I readily admit that this is what I want, but you need the opportunity to reflect before we act."

 

[slut_in_white]

Madeline thought for a moment, after he firmly broke the kiss, that he was going to tell her this couldn't happen. That it was inappropriate, and impossible for a student and teacher to have this kind of relationship. She felt saddened by the prospect, but not rejected - no, the passion of his response, the feeling of his hands on her back, holding her against him told her everything she needed to know about how he felt.

Only then, he started talking. She realized that he wasn't saying no at all, but rather exercising expected caution. Her whole expression broke into a wide smile at the realization, and then yet another blush as he kissed her hands. It seemed every moment she spent with him only made her like him more. He was being wonderfully gentle, and his concern for her emotional wellbeing touched her deeply, in a way she hadn't expected. He was so kind, it made her heart want to burst out of her chest.

"I think... I think perhaps you underestimate how very much I've thought about this..." she admitted softly with a blush and a bashful smile. "But yes... perhaps somewhere more private is a good idea. Where do you think we could go?"

 

[SecondHandLion]

"My home is a short walk off of campus. I have a path that I take every evening that is fairly secluded," Delaney explained, his fingertip tracing lines back and forth on the hollow of Madeline's throat. "And I have a high privacy fence. For the sake of my goats and my neighbors," he added with a chuckle. "Until such time as my neighbors are able to change the city's ordinances."

"And perhaps I should let you borrow my jacket," Delaney added, his finger dipping down to run across the exposed upper curves of her breasts. "It is suppose to be chilly outside tonight."

 

[slut_in_white]

Madeline couldn't stop smiling. She reveled in his touch while he explained what he was thinking, his fingers tracing gently over her skin. She nodded at his suggestion that they go back to his place. "You aren't concerned about your neighbours?" she asked softly, pushing herself to her feet.

 

[SecondHandLion]

"I'm the old kook who homesteads on two acres of land just inside city limits, Ms. Hemmingway," Delaney replied, as he stood up himself. There was a playful note in the way he used her last name that normally wasn't present in his voice. "My neighbors are happy that I content myself with honey bees, compost piles and a hot tub heated by biofuel. I believe they're worried if they push their luck, I'll throw chickens into the mix. So they tend to keep to themselves."

Delaney took his jacket off its hook in the corner and tucked it around Madeline. Considering their relative size differences, the jacket hung off her like a dress.

"But there is one thing you're wrong about, Madeline," Delaney added, cupping the side of her face with his hand. "Sometimes a man does hold a woman in his hand not because of the opportunity for intimacy, but because she's so beautiful he has to prove to himself that she's real."

 

[slut_in_white]

Madeline wrapped herself in his coat, smiling as the scent of his cologne enveloped her completely. She clutched the front of the coat and lifted her to nose inhaling happily while he told her about his house. It sounded very lovely. He had goats and bees! It sounded like a little piece of heaven, in her humble opinion, but before she could tell him so, he caught her face in his hand and started speaking again.

Sometimes a man does hold a woman in his hand not because of the opportunity for intimacy, but because she's so beautiful he has to prove to himself that she's real.

Another bright blush swept across her face, and a bashful smile. She opened her mouth twice, trying to respond, only to discover that she couldn't find the words. Finally, she huffed playfully at him, crossing her arms. "I don't know how you expect me to follow an act like that," she answered, her tone teasingly chiding. Then her expression softened, and she took a quick step toward him and reached up to catch his face between her palms so she could guide him down to her for a soft kiss - even on her tiptoes, she wasn't tall enough to reach his lips. "I suppose something other than words will have to suffice."

 

[SecondHandLion]

Allowing his face to be pulled down, Delaney began replying, "I suppose there are---." It was as far as he got before Madeline's kiss silenced him. There was a hunger in that kiss she gave him, a hunger that matched his own. Delaney reluctantly broke the kiss, for fear that if he allowed it to continue, it would not be long before his and Madeline's clothes were strewn across his office floor.

"I think, Madeline," Delaney began, gaining control of his ragged breathing as he straightened back up, "that we should definitely retire to my abode now."