“The sexiest thing about touching is, sometimes, the moment before you touch,” she whispered in my ear that night in my office, after she entwined me in a carefully knitted web of mature lies and school girl charm. I willingly fell in her lascivious trap, surrendering to her choreographed dance of innocent smiles and sultry looks that are anything but. She gracefully seduced me between books and report cards and the pictures of my cheating wife doing the exact same thing I did with the perverted little miss later on that night. The exact same indiscretion I can’t help but commit every time I find myself alone with her.

Julia. Thorne. Julia Thorne. Miss Thorne. The thorn on my side, my love, my soul, my crime. My sin, my sweet sin. The sweetest sin.

“The sexiest thing about touching is, sometimes, the moment before you touch,” she said, but she forgot to mention that the most tortuous thing about touching is perhaps the moment after you touch. That second when you realize that the bliss is gone and yearning is all that’s left and all you have to help you survive second after second is the velvety memory of her juvenile skin stinging your hands until you can get another touch.

“Headmaster Williams,” my name rolled out her tongue with the dangerousness of a mermaid’s song as she strolled into my office. I tried to ignore her as she sat down in the black leather chair in front of my desk and crossed her beautiful legs with the grace of a super model.

“Headmaster Williams,” she repeated growing irritated at my apparent indifference. I removed my gaze from the papers I was reading and casually looked into her olive green eyes. Julia was there, legs still crossed, the heel of her right foot tapping impatiently on the floor, her left ankle childishly twisting in the air while the skirt of her school uniform slinked its way up to the silkiness of her thighs, making me green with envy.

“Yes, Miss Thorne..?” I asked her as I forced my eyes back to the papers in my hand.

I heard the squeak of the leather as she got up, then I felt the heat of her lips almost brushing my skin as she leaned on the desk, towards me, quickly followed by the faint smell of cigarettes when she spoke, only inches away from my face.