Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Tree, must be getting the better of me ... for a moment, at first glance, I thought those were Gunner's male parts.
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Minnesota Moore and the Emperors' Treasure
- Thread starter Praefectus Praetorio
- Start date
windar
Teller of Tales
I've seen a movie about that
windar
Teller of Tales
Yes, on your knees, there's a good girl, Dr. Moore....Mmm....
Basque for one (it's in its own family). If you count Greenland, Inuktitut, the language of the Inuit. And of course Arabic is widely spoken in many communities in Europe.
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messaline
Crucified Amazon
Hum ! What Barb didn't know is that Messaline had already met another French girl and that , at home, they were sometimes playing some curious games ...
.... what could happen of that ? ... 
Yes, I think most of the non-Indo-European languages that are spoken in Europe
have already been credited in this thread - I'd only add the very complicated
range of languages in the Caucasus, including Georgian, but dozens of others,
whose family relationships are still far from certain.
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Chapter 19 April 17 First Day in Zagreb
The next days were like a whirlwind for Dr. Moore. As she not only did her own research, but discussed the other’s work as it progressed.
After the first day, the group met and reported their progress. Barb was pleased with everyone’s work.
Susan had found a report to the bishop of Budapest that listed a brother Nikolos at the right time. She was hopeful of more along that way.
Henry had obtained satellite images and geo-local sonar sampling in the area of the Split (whose downtown was the palace ruins) and was hopeful of mapping the whole area for ancient roads as well as suspicious mounds and markings.
David had unearthed several detailed maps and diagrams of the palace as it was in Diocletian’s time. One diagram has some extensive, but damaged writing. He hoped with the help of the University staff do translate at least part.
Barb was particularly pleased with David’s dedication. She knew he had distractions at home. On top of chronic money problems (his family was stuck in a cycle of poverty and alcohol abuse), he had recently found out that his older brother had an advanced and spreading form of pancreatic cancer. This stretched the already thin family finances beyond the breaking point. Barb had arranged with Windar to supplement David’s project stipend with some money of her own. It wasn’t much, she knew, but it would help. David wasn’t told of her extra compensation.
Messa, unusually quiet and restrained, presented her work modestly. She had reviewed an extremely impressive volume of the Hungarian and Byzantine records of the monarchs during the Crusade. She hadn’t uncovered any hidden treasures, but she was well on the way to being able to give some useful background to the team’s knowledge of Frederick and his entourage. Particularly interesting was communication she had discovered between the Byzantine Emperor Isaac II Angelos and Frederick’s cousin Heinrich der Löwe. Barbara was most interested in that. But she made sure to sound professional and aloof when she commented on Messa’s work. She wasn’t going to lead the poor girl on!
Dr. Moore herself had found illuminating records of the route taken by the Crusaders and by Frederick. It convinced her that they had been too narrow in assuming the monastery was in modern-day Croatia. It is possible that Frederick left the march in Serbia and crossed Bosnia-Montenegro to get to Split. She asked Messa to look into how the locals in the 12th century would have referred to that area. As part of this change, she asked the monastery researchers to broaden their search to that area as well.
The team, including Barb, skipped cocktails before dinner due to the over-indulgence of the prior night. As the meal was breaking up, Messa shyly asked if she could talk to Dr. Moore privately. Barb politely excused herself, pleading exhaustion and went straight to her room. The almost sleepless night before was catching up to her.
Dr. Moore called Geoffrey. There was no sexting, but she told him of the kiss. He responded non-committally with his usual, “I see.” This just drove Barb to explain further her feelings and how she was trying to maintain a professional distance from Messaline. Again, he just said, “I see.” This was one of Geoff’s few mannerisms that really annoyed Barb.
“What the hell do you mean by ‘I see,’ you taciturn bastard?”
“I mean there seems to be more here than you are saying. I also wonder if Messaline might not understand what you are trying to do.”
“I’ve said it all, Geoffrey. I just think you’re getting jealous. Let’s not have a fight over nothing. I love you.”
“I wasn’t fighting, dear Barb. I love you more.”
As Barbara prepared for bed, she thought of Geoffrey’s words. She was a little concerned that Messa had been so quiet at dinner. The usually bubbly French girl seemed distracted or almost depressed. Barb turned off the lights wondering if she had cut her off too abruptly. She resolved to take action the next day if Messa didn’t snap back.
The next days were like a whirlwind for Dr. Moore. As she not only did her own research, but discussed the other’s work as it progressed.
After the first day, the group met and reported their progress. Barb was pleased with everyone’s work.
Susan had found a report to the bishop of Budapest that listed a brother Nikolos at the right time. She was hopeful of more along that way.
Henry had obtained satellite images and geo-local sonar sampling in the area of the Split (whose downtown was the palace ruins) and was hopeful of mapping the whole area for ancient roads as well as suspicious mounds and markings.
David had unearthed several detailed maps and diagrams of the palace as it was in Diocletian’s time. One diagram has some extensive, but damaged writing. He hoped with the help of the University staff do translate at least part.
Barb was particularly pleased with David’s dedication. She knew he had distractions at home. On top of chronic money problems (his family was stuck in a cycle of poverty and alcohol abuse), he had recently found out that his older brother had an advanced and spreading form of pancreatic cancer. This stretched the already thin family finances beyond the breaking point. Barb had arranged with Windar to supplement David’s project stipend with some money of her own. It wasn’t much, she knew, but it would help. David wasn’t told of her extra compensation.
Messa, unusually quiet and restrained, presented her work modestly. She had reviewed an extremely impressive volume of the Hungarian and Byzantine records of the monarchs during the Crusade. She hadn’t uncovered any hidden treasures, but she was well on the way to being able to give some useful background to the team’s knowledge of Frederick and his entourage. Particularly interesting was communication she had discovered between the Byzantine Emperor Isaac II Angelos and Frederick’s cousin Heinrich der Löwe. Barbara was most interested in that. But she made sure to sound professional and aloof when she commented on Messa’s work. She wasn’t going to lead the poor girl on!
Dr. Moore herself had found illuminating records of the route taken by the Crusaders and by Frederick. It convinced her that they had been too narrow in assuming the monastery was in modern-day Croatia. It is possible that Frederick left the march in Serbia and crossed Bosnia-Montenegro to get to Split. She asked Messa to look into how the locals in the 12th century would have referred to that area. As part of this change, she asked the monastery researchers to broaden their search to that area as well.
The team, including Barb, skipped cocktails before dinner due to the over-indulgence of the prior night. As the meal was breaking up, Messa shyly asked if she could talk to Dr. Moore privately. Barb politely excused herself, pleading exhaustion and went straight to her room. The almost sleepless night before was catching up to her.
Dr. Moore called Geoffrey. There was no sexting, but she told him of the kiss. He responded non-committally with his usual, “I see.” This just drove Barb to explain further her feelings and how she was trying to maintain a professional distance from Messaline. Again, he just said, “I see.” This was one of Geoff’s few mannerisms that really annoyed Barb.
“What the hell do you mean by ‘I see,’ you taciturn bastard?”
“I mean there seems to be more here than you are saying. I also wonder if Messaline might not understand what you are trying to do.”
“I’ve said it all, Geoffrey. I just think you’re getting jealous. Let’s not have a fight over nothing. I love you.”
“I wasn’t fighting, dear Barb. I love you more.”
As Barbara prepared for bed, she thought of Geoffrey’s words. She was a little concerned that Messa had been so quiet at dinner. The usually bubbly French girl seemed distracted or almost depressed. Barb turned off the lights wondering if she had cut her off too abruptly. She resolved to take action the next day if Messa didn’t snap back.
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
University Library in Zagreb
Croatian State Archives
An unusual, but apropos museum in Zagreb
Croatian State Archives
An unusual, but apropos museum in Zagreb
messaline
Crucified Amazon
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Chapter 20 April 18 Last Day in Zagreb
Messaline stayed downstairs long after the others had gone to their rooms. She had a glass of Pernod Absinthe. Even that powerful libation wasn’t enough to calm her fears. Finally, a little after midnight, she made her way, alone, to her room.
For the next hour, she lay on her bed exhausted, staring at the ceiling and crying. She had worked so very hard today. No one could imagine how many old records she had plowed through, translated and notated. There was an impossible amount of information there. But she had done her best to get the important information and report it. But her presentation was hesitant. She knew she wasn’t able to adequately review and analyze all the material and she feared being criticized for jumping to conclusions with incomplete facts. All her self-confidence seemed to have evaporated away during that hellish breakfast. She was sure her presentation had fallen flat. Dr. Moore certainly showed none of the enthusiasm she had for the work of the others.
Messaline knew that her fears were well-founded. Professor Moore was very nice, but she must have disapproved of Messa’s sexual advance just as her former professor had. Barbara was too refined and polite to make a scene as that other woman had done. No, she would be looking for a discrete way to get rid of the perverted student. Messa knew she would be sent home soon unless some miracle happened. She took a long time to cry herself to sleep.
The second full day in Zagreb went much like the first. Breakfast was quicker since each had work that they wanted to get to. Dr. Moore had wanted to speak privately to Messa after breakfast, but the French girl had barely eaten a thing before she had hurried off to dive back into the mountains of documents that were her assignment.
That evening at dinner, Professor Moore was even more impressed with the research completed. Especially what Messaline had accomplished. Barb realized that the girl must have plowed through an incredibly large collection of old records to get the few relevant communications that they needed.
However, Dr. Moore believed strongly in teamwork. Thus, on the wrap-up night, rather than praise the outstanding individual efforts, she withheld praise until the end when she said how proud she was of what the team had accomplished. She liked to say, “Expressio Unius Est Exclusio Alterius.”
She also announced that their efforts had helped convince her that Barbarossa’s route to Split was most likely through Bosnia. Therefore, in the morning they would be leaving for Sarajevo. To celebrate the progress, she ordered several bottles of Champagne for the table.
As the party drank and celebrated, Dr. Moore observed that Messaline was, if anything, more withdrawn and morose looking than the day before. She determined that she would do something about it tonight. She leaned toward her and said in a low voice, “Messaline, I need talk to you privately about your work on this project. Please come to my room about 9 o’clock.”
Messaline nodded rapidly and said, “Yes, Dr. Moore,” in a barely audible voice.
Barbara thought that she really needed to encourage the girl. It occurred to her, that Messaline, the youngest on the team and the only non-American might feel a little out of her depth.
The drinking and the celebration continued. Soon, Messa got up and said she had things to do in her room and left. Several looked around puzzled, Messaline was usually the life of the party. Nevertheless, the Champagne soon got festive spirits rolling again.
Back in her room, Messaline began packing her things. She cried hard. She knew what Dr. Moore wanted to talk to her about. She wasn’t going to Sarajevo with the rest. She was being sent home, fired from the project! Oh, there’d be some thinly veiled excuse: her age, budget, the team over staffed, a ‘skill mismatch’. It would be very formal and polite with the necessary expressions of regret. The Professor wasn’t one to make a scene or be gauche.
Messa emptied her drawers, feeling as if she was emptying her life. When she got back to University, she knew there would be nothing available in terms of work with the professors. Most would be polite but firm. Some would look at her with open disgust and refuse to even explain their rejection. But the handwriting would be on the wall. With no support from the faculty, a doctoral candidate was doomed. Before Christmas, she would be gone from the program. There would be nowhere else to turn. Expelled from a program with the reputation of Minnesota’s, without recommendations, she would be ‘damaged goods.’ No other place would even consider her.
The 23-year-old French girl closed her suitcase, feeling she was closing her life’s dream. To be an historian, to be a professor, to live in the academic world was all she’d ever wanted since she was 13. Her family had made great financial sacrifices to help her fulfill her academic ambitions. Now she had a just a Licence in history which wasn’t even enough to get a job teaching in secondary school.
As it approached 9 PM, she pulled herself together. She put a cold cloth on her eyes to reduce the redness and brushed her hair. Trying to stand proud even as her world was dying in her heart, she walked down the hall and knocked on Professor Moore’s door.
Messaline stayed downstairs long after the others had gone to their rooms. She had a glass of Pernod Absinthe. Even that powerful libation wasn’t enough to calm her fears. Finally, a little after midnight, she made her way, alone, to her room.
For the next hour, she lay on her bed exhausted, staring at the ceiling and crying. She had worked so very hard today. No one could imagine how many old records she had plowed through, translated and notated. There was an impossible amount of information there. But she had done her best to get the important information and report it. But her presentation was hesitant. She knew she wasn’t able to adequately review and analyze all the material and she feared being criticized for jumping to conclusions with incomplete facts. All her self-confidence seemed to have evaporated away during that hellish breakfast. She was sure her presentation had fallen flat. Dr. Moore certainly showed none of the enthusiasm she had for the work of the others.
Messaline knew that her fears were well-founded. Professor Moore was very nice, but she must have disapproved of Messa’s sexual advance just as her former professor had. Barbara was too refined and polite to make a scene as that other woman had done. No, she would be looking for a discrete way to get rid of the perverted student. Messa knew she would be sent home soon unless some miracle happened. She took a long time to cry herself to sleep.
The second full day in Zagreb went much like the first. Breakfast was quicker since each had work that they wanted to get to. Dr. Moore had wanted to speak privately to Messa after breakfast, but the French girl had barely eaten a thing before she had hurried off to dive back into the mountains of documents that were her assignment.
That evening at dinner, Professor Moore was even more impressed with the research completed. Especially what Messaline had accomplished. Barb realized that the girl must have plowed through an incredibly large collection of old records to get the few relevant communications that they needed.
However, Dr. Moore believed strongly in teamwork. Thus, on the wrap-up night, rather than praise the outstanding individual efforts, she withheld praise until the end when she said how proud she was of what the team had accomplished. She liked to say, “Expressio Unius Est Exclusio Alterius.”
She also announced that their efforts had helped convince her that Barbarossa’s route to Split was most likely through Bosnia. Therefore, in the morning they would be leaving for Sarajevo. To celebrate the progress, she ordered several bottles of Champagne for the table.
As the party drank and celebrated, Dr. Moore observed that Messaline was, if anything, more withdrawn and morose looking than the day before. She determined that she would do something about it tonight. She leaned toward her and said in a low voice, “Messaline, I need talk to you privately about your work on this project. Please come to my room about 9 o’clock.”
Messaline nodded rapidly and said, “Yes, Dr. Moore,” in a barely audible voice.
Barbara thought that she really needed to encourage the girl. It occurred to her, that Messaline, the youngest on the team and the only non-American might feel a little out of her depth.
The drinking and the celebration continued. Soon, Messa got up and said she had things to do in her room and left. Several looked around puzzled, Messaline was usually the life of the party. Nevertheless, the Champagne soon got festive spirits rolling again.
Back in her room, Messaline began packing her things. She cried hard. She knew what Dr. Moore wanted to talk to her about. She wasn’t going to Sarajevo with the rest. She was being sent home, fired from the project! Oh, there’d be some thinly veiled excuse: her age, budget, the team over staffed, a ‘skill mismatch’. It would be very formal and polite with the necessary expressions of regret. The Professor wasn’t one to make a scene or be gauche.
Messa emptied her drawers, feeling as if she was emptying her life. When she got back to University, she knew there would be nothing available in terms of work with the professors. Most would be polite but firm. Some would look at her with open disgust and refuse to even explain their rejection. But the handwriting would be on the wall. With no support from the faculty, a doctoral candidate was doomed. Before Christmas, she would be gone from the program. There would be nowhere else to turn. Expelled from a program with the reputation of Minnesota’s, without recommendations, she would be ‘damaged goods.’ No other place would even consider her.
The 23-year-old French girl closed her suitcase, feeling she was closing her life’s dream. To be an historian, to be a professor, to live in the academic world was all she’d ever wanted since she was 13. Her family had made great financial sacrifices to help her fulfill her academic ambitions. Now she had a just a Licence in history which wasn’t even enough to get a job teaching in secondary school.
As it approached 9 PM, she pulled herself together. She put a cold cloth on her eyes to reduce the redness and brushed her hair. Trying to stand proud even as her world was dying in her heart, she walked down the hall and knocked on Professor Moore’s door.
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
It was a difficult two days for Messalina
But she had courage to face Dr. Moore.
But she had courage to face Dr. Moore.
I think she has a big surprise coming.
Very sympathetic chapter. Emotions, emotions, emotions!
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
I'm trying to figure why, of all the background photo attachments, why this is the most popular with currently 9 likes?
I never knew our readers were so excited by monks praying!
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connoisseurs
Senator
There are a lot of stories on CF I didn´t read as yet, but this one seems to be a rarity. There are other stories that are very emotional and empathetic, but most time that is oriented on dying or bodily torments. I am reminded of my youth. All that tentaviness and trepidations. Brilliant written!
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
I will step out of the P. Pulp character for a moment.
Connoisseurs, I hope you realize how much a wonderful and generous comment like that means to a struggling author. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
I just hope the rest of the story pleases you as much. This little arc in the story is a tough act to follow.
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Barbara, I should also thank you for this latest of several positive and encouraging comments. You warm my heart also (and not just because of:
)
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
If you are wondering about the next post, so am I. All I can get from Mr. Pulp is that it will come out Wednesday morning EDT. I have reached out to my other, anonymous and usually unreliably sources and they say he has torn up four or five chapters and is frantically rewriting them with a significant plot change. They say he's considering having Barb not send Messa back to Minnesota (he says that's too cruel) and have her crucified instead? This doesn't make a lot of sense to me, but I do hear that there is a shortage of piña colada mix on the island, though the Captain Morgan is in good supply.
We shall see what the morning brings.
We shall see what the morning brings.
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Chapter 21 April 18, 2018 Last Night in Zagreb
The rest of the team stayed and celebrated. Dr. Moore, like the rest probably drank a little too much, but everything was going so well. About eight, they all said goodnight and went to their rooms.
Barbara sat at the desk in her room making notes of tasks for the next day. But her mind was elsewhere. She couldn’t get out of her mind how terribly sad Messaline had looked at dinner. She was beginning to accept that some of this might be due to the way she reacted to the kiss in the elevator.
That first night in Zagreb was like a drug high for Barbara. Getting her team all together, the enthusiasm and comradery, too much to drink before, during, and after dinner. And then the kiss from sweet Messaline in the elevator! It had all been too much. And then capping it off with a wet dream about her student. That was it. Messa was a decade younger than Dr. Moore, her student, a member of the project team that Barb was leading. Barbara had wanted to keep things professional. But she hadn’t explained that to Messa. She had simply cut off any personal interaction and began to treat her like the others.
Well, maybe not quite like the others, Barb admitted. She had intentionally ignored Messa at breakfast the next morning when they were sitting side-by-side. But Barb had wanted to make a clean break with how they’d parted the night before. That was right, wasn’t it? Messa had arranged an excellent breakfast and Barb had given her no credit. Perhaps she should have given a little compliment?
But then, in her determination to not encourage Messa’s advance, Barbara had forgotten to give her an assignment as she did the others. That was just an oversight, Barb reasoned. But Messa had been so timid asking that maybe she felt unwanted. Maybe she should have apologized for the oversight?
Barb began feeling very bad about the situation. From the moment, twelve months ago, when she had first met the bubbly, driven, charming young French girl, Barb loved her. She saw a younger version of herself and wanted to encourage her in every way possible. And, she had to admit, she had found Messaline somewhat desirable, rather sexy, though her feeling for Geoffrey were far stronger. When Windar told her that Messaline would be part of the team, Barbara was overjoyed! And now, unintentionally, she might have caused the girl unnecessary worry.
No longer! Barb thought. I’ll tell her firmly and professionally that I value her as a member of this team and that her work is of high quality and very much appreciated.
Just then there was a timid knock at the hall door. Barb checked herself in the mirror and smoothed her hair before getting up and going to the door.
Barb opened the door and invited Messa in. The French girl timidly followed her professor into the living-room of the suite. Barb turned and began to speak in her most professional voice.
“Messaline, I asked you to come here tonight so we could have a private talk about your performance as a member of the team.”
Merde!
“Over the last few days, I have become aware of a problem between us which I think you are aware of also. As it effects your work as a team member, it needs to be resolved immediately.
Mon Dieu, it’s happening!
“Messaline, you know that Dean Windar chose you for this project before I knew who he was selecting. But, now, I’m in total charge of the project and who is qualified to work on it.
Merde!
“I have thought very carefully over the last few days about you and your role.”
Mon Dieu, here is comes! J'ai terminé! Messaline felt all her resolve to maintain dignité melt away!
“I think it’s important for me to be the one to privately tell you…”
Before Dr. Moore could finish the sentence, Messaline screamed, “Non, non, non! MENDIER!” She ran and threw herself on her knees before her professor and hugged her legs. All her pride was gone. Dr. Moore was about to fire her. She couldn’t give up her life’s dream without begging forgiveness.
“I’m so sorry Professor Moore! I’m so ashamed! I will never show ma perversion again! Je vous en supplie, forgive me! I will work so so hard. I will do anything you want. Just don’t send me home! Don’t renvoyer moi! I was so wrong to kiss you like that. I was insensé! Never again! Please, please, please! I beg you, forgive me!”
Barbara was so shocked by her student’s outburst that it took a moment for it to register and for her to react. Messa was devasted! She thought Barb hated her for the kiss and was going to fire her! Barb’s heart broke as she understood the agony she had caused the girl. Any wall of professionalism she had tried to erect, suddenly and totally collapsed into rubble.
Barb pulled Messa to her feet in front of her and placed her hand on the girl’s mouth to silence her. She could see the desperation and fear in Messa’s tear-filled eyes. She felt such love for her! It took only a moment for her to know what to do.
“Dear, dear Messa! Mon cher! Je t'aime!” And she kissed her full on the lips.
It was as if they had always been lovers. The deep, passionate kiss led quickly to a sensuous, mutual disrobing and the short trip through the office to the bedroom. There, on the silk hotel sheets, the 35-year-old professor and the 23-year-old student were soon moving as one, exploring each other’s body and arousing sensations that were uncontrollable. When Moore went down on Messa’s soft pussy lips, the blonde girl screamed in release. A little later, Messa returned the favor in spades.
Two days of anticipation and resistance and fear was released in two hours of totally uninhibited and very gratifying lovemaking!
Later, they were lying in each other’s arms and Barb looked Messaline in the eye and asked, “Have you ever been spanked?”
“Mais oui, mon professeur!”
The rest of the team stayed and celebrated. Dr. Moore, like the rest probably drank a little too much, but everything was going so well. About eight, they all said goodnight and went to their rooms.
Barbara sat at the desk in her room making notes of tasks for the next day. But her mind was elsewhere. She couldn’t get out of her mind how terribly sad Messaline had looked at dinner. She was beginning to accept that some of this might be due to the way she reacted to the kiss in the elevator.
That first night in Zagreb was like a drug high for Barbara. Getting her team all together, the enthusiasm and comradery, too much to drink before, during, and after dinner. And then the kiss from sweet Messaline in the elevator! It had all been too much. And then capping it off with a wet dream about her student. That was it. Messa was a decade younger than Dr. Moore, her student, a member of the project team that Barb was leading. Barbara had wanted to keep things professional. But she hadn’t explained that to Messa. She had simply cut off any personal interaction and began to treat her like the others.
Well, maybe not quite like the others, Barb admitted. She had intentionally ignored Messa at breakfast the next morning when they were sitting side-by-side. But Barb had wanted to make a clean break with how they’d parted the night before. That was right, wasn’t it? Messa had arranged an excellent breakfast and Barb had given her no credit. Perhaps she should have given a little compliment?
But then, in her determination to not encourage Messa’s advance, Barbara had forgotten to give her an assignment as she did the others. That was just an oversight, Barb reasoned. But Messa had been so timid asking that maybe she felt unwanted. Maybe she should have apologized for the oversight?
Barb began feeling very bad about the situation. From the moment, twelve months ago, when she had first met the bubbly, driven, charming young French girl, Barb loved her. She saw a younger version of herself and wanted to encourage her in every way possible. And, she had to admit, she had found Messaline somewhat desirable, rather sexy, though her feeling for Geoffrey were far stronger. When Windar told her that Messaline would be part of the team, Barbara was overjoyed! And now, unintentionally, she might have caused the girl unnecessary worry.
No longer! Barb thought. I’ll tell her firmly and professionally that I value her as a member of this team and that her work is of high quality and very much appreciated.
Just then there was a timid knock at the hall door. Barb checked herself in the mirror and smoothed her hair before getting up and going to the door.
Barb opened the door and invited Messa in. The French girl timidly followed her professor into the living-room of the suite. Barb turned and began to speak in her most professional voice.
“Messaline, I asked you to come here tonight so we could have a private talk about your performance as a member of the team.”
Merde!
“Over the last few days, I have become aware of a problem between us which I think you are aware of also. As it effects your work as a team member, it needs to be resolved immediately.
Mon Dieu, it’s happening!
“Messaline, you know that Dean Windar chose you for this project before I knew who he was selecting. But, now, I’m in total charge of the project and who is qualified to work on it.
Merde!
“I have thought very carefully over the last few days about you and your role.”
Mon Dieu, here is comes! J'ai terminé! Messaline felt all her resolve to maintain dignité melt away!
“I think it’s important for me to be the one to privately tell you…”
Before Dr. Moore could finish the sentence, Messaline screamed, “Non, non, non! MENDIER!” She ran and threw herself on her knees before her professor and hugged her legs. All her pride was gone. Dr. Moore was about to fire her. She couldn’t give up her life’s dream without begging forgiveness.
“I’m so sorry Professor Moore! I’m so ashamed! I will never show ma perversion again! Je vous en supplie, forgive me! I will work so so hard. I will do anything you want. Just don’t send me home! Don’t renvoyer moi! I was so wrong to kiss you like that. I was insensé! Never again! Please, please, please! I beg you, forgive me!”
Barbara was so shocked by her student’s outburst that it took a moment for it to register and for her to react. Messa was devasted! She thought Barb hated her for the kiss and was going to fire her! Barb’s heart broke as she understood the agony she had caused the girl. Any wall of professionalism she had tried to erect, suddenly and totally collapsed into rubble.
Barb pulled Messa to her feet in front of her and placed her hand on the girl’s mouth to silence her. She could see the desperation and fear in Messa’s tear-filled eyes. She felt such love for her! It took only a moment for her to know what to do.
“Dear, dear Messa! Mon cher! Je t'aime!” And she kissed her full on the lips.
It was as if they had always been lovers. The deep, passionate kiss led quickly to a sensuous, mutual disrobing and the short trip through the office to the bedroom. There, on the silk hotel sheets, the 35-year-old professor and the 23-year-old student were soon moving as one, exploring each other’s body and arousing sensations that were uncontrollable. When Moore went down on Messa’s soft pussy lips, the blonde girl screamed in release. A little later, Messa returned the favor in spades.
Two days of anticipation and resistance and fear was released in two hours of totally uninhibited and very gratifying lovemaking!
Later, they were lying in each other’s arms and Barb looked Messaline in the eye and asked, “Have you ever been spanked?”
“Mais oui, mon professeur!”
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Dr. Moore is surprised
She comforts Messa
They adjourn to the bedroom
Messa returns the comfort
Let us give them some privacy
She comforts Messa
They adjourn to the bedroom
Messa returns the comfort
Let us give them some privacy