Free Moonlighting: A Thanksgiving Story by Vicki Blue Page B

he said. “The traditional
values were far better…”
    His words
intrigued her, but Nigel Longbridge suddenly grew quiet, as if embarrassed at
having gotten too caught up in the conversation. He took a step back and
adjusted his tie. He was tall and slim, his brunette hair thick and wavy. He
struck the perfect balance between masculinity and Geek. Charlotte felt herself
blush and look away.  “Thanks again,” she said. “Goodnight.”
    She turned
before he could reply and walked hurriedly to her car. Her face felt flushed
and her heart was hammering. What in the world was happening to her? She did
not have to turn to know that he was still in the doorway, watching her. As she
pulled away in her car, she could still see him standing by the door. He was
appearing to adjust a poster on the window by the door, but she could see him
watching her from above the top.
    “Stop it,” she
chided herself on the way home. But already, the wheels in her sex-starved
brain were already churning. Charlotte tried to think of anything but the
professorial Nigel Longbridge, and how large his hands were. She always paid
attention to man’s hands, imagining what they would feel like spanking her
bottom…
    By the time she
pulled into her driveway, she was furious with herself. Charlotte’s unwritten,
personal rule excluded men she personally knew from her fantasies. Men from
television and movies were fair game. James Bond, Dr. Who, Indiana Jones - no
problem. But Nigel Longbridge, her boss? Problem.
    Charlotte forced
herself to think of anything else as she walked into her house. With a sigh,
she removed the contents of her bag onto her writing desk and examined the
strap. It could be fixed easily and since her sewing machine was set up in the
corner she quickly stitched the handle and put the bag to the side. She felt
tense and decided the best remedy was to write. She needed to get a new story
to the publishers at Moonlight, anyway. Christmas was coming on and she wanted
to makes sure she had enough put aside to get gifts for her parents and little
brother.
    Sometimes the
best way to diffuse a fantasy was to play it out on her computer screen, so
Charlotte began to write a novella loosely based on a girls' school teacher who
looked much like her and a headmaster loosely based on Nigel Longbridge. The
setting was turn of the century England, where the female lead, Penelope Hill,
was seeking to protect a student from what she suspected are false accusations
from a group of Victorian Mean Girls. The student was slated for punishment at
the hands of the headmaster, and to buy time, Miss Hill had lied to keep that
from happening. But the headmaster, Basil Edge, found out about the lie.
    He confronted
me the next morning in his private office, just before classes. It was tidy but
smelled of musty books, just as I always imagined it would. I’d spent a lot of
time imagining Mr. Edge’s office, more than I should have perhaps. The
headmaster was taciturn with both students and staff, offering little more than
a daily greeting or curt instructions as he managed the school. His presence
had always seemed to me the embodiment of authority. We would stand straighter
and get on our best behavior just by glimpsing him in the hallway. His
authority both mesmerized and terrified me. I’d dreamt and feared of being
called into his office and here I was, standing before the man himself.
    “The matrons
have come to me with a disturbing report,” he said.
    “Sir?” I
asked careful to inject innocence into my voice, even though I knew what was
coming.
    They say that
for three days now Lydia has been absent from school, and therefore unable to
answer allegations of scrawling naughty words on the property of another
student. She is your student and one of the matrons said she saw you visiting
Lydia at home and the girl is not sick at all. She believes that you, Miss
Hill, have instructed the lass to remain truant until you can clear her name.
Is this