It's 1am.
Perhaps Jane should have chosen a different time of night to commit the same crime she did a while ago, but this time of night just feels right.
She pledges to be more careful this time, so she is more silent than ever as she leaves her room, relying on the moonlight seeping through the windows of the ancient building to guide her through the dark halls.
Taking a candle might be too risky,.
Her heart beats faster and faster as she gets closer to the closed library. And when she reaches the door, she pushes it open slowly, wincing at the creaking noises it makes.
She steps in and from where she stands, she can see a soft glow coming from the other side of the large space, behind the lines of shelves, as if someone left a candle lit there.
She can feel her heartbeat in her throat now, but she cannot bring herself to retreat. Instead, she tiptoes through, peaking her head through the shelf as she gets close enough to the source of the light.
"You can stop creeping around now, Jane. I've been expecting you."
Her heart leaps, this time not in fear, but in exhilaration. 'He's been expecting me'.
She steps out of the shadows, coming into the headmaster's full view with nothing but her short shorts and oversized T-shirt on. She left her slippers in her room because she didn't want them to make a noise.
He's seated by an old desk, a large book open under his nose with one big candle placed in the middle illuminating his perfect figure.
"I need something to get my mind off it. The other book, I mean," she says.
"Why?" he asks.
"The imagined scenes keep replaying in my mind."
He stands. "What scenes?"
She looks down at his legs, taking slow steps closer to her.
"Well…" she swallows. "I shouldn't say," she shakes her head.
He looks down at her as she bows her head to hide the rising heat in her cheeks. 'I knew you would come to me.'
"You should. Then I'll help you get rid of those thoughts," he offers.
She looks up, into his eyes. "How?"
"I'll replace those imagined scenes with real ones."
Her eyes widen, even though she is not entirely sure what he means.
"I'm sorry, sir. I shouldn't have come here. Again," she tries.
"You don't mean that," Mr. Quinn says. "You're not sorry. In fact, I think you are more than willing to accept my help."
"I am," she admits, curiosity filling her eyes.
"Then tell me," he says, taking one last step that brings them dangerously close together.
"What has been on your mind? What thoughts are you desperately trying to rid yourself of? They must be filthy. Unfit for a girl like you," he says.
She nods in agreement and a bit of desperation. She takes a deep breath, holding out her hand and touching his neck with the tips of her fingers.
"This," she says, trailing her fingers down, and running her entire palm over his chest. He stiffens. He wasn't expecting her to be so bold.
She lifts her hand off him, only to return it to his thigh. "And this," she says, touching softly as she did on his neck and chest. "…is where it begins," she adds.
He swallows hard, almost breaking a sweat even though she hasn't done anything particularly exciting…yet.
"And where does it end?" He asks, surprising himself with how low his voice has dropped.
"'I want you to hold onto me and thrust deep inside me, until all I can do is call out your name and shake in ecstasy beneath you'" she quotes. "That's what she says."
He stares at her in bewilderment, unsure of what to even say now.
"Do people actually say things like that when they…" she struggles to get the words out, "have sex? Or was that just for descriptive purposes?" She asks.
"People say that and more. What does he say after that?"
"Nothing. He simply does as she asks."
She takes a step back, as if that could possibly erase the tension that lingers between them.
"I'm ready." She says.
"What?"
"Replace my imaginary thoughts with real ones," she says. "I'm ready."
"You're unbelievable," he whispers. He takes in her appearance because he doesn't get to see her like this. Her hair is pulled back and her thighs are exposed. He can see her neck and the outline of her collarbone and shoulders. They are slanted now, bearing less tension than usual.
"I got a similar feeling when you punished me in the discipline chamber," she says. She's not sure why she's telling him all of this, but she simply cannot hold back.
"What feeling?" he asks, resisting the urge to close the gap between them. It's all he can think about besides feeling the softness of her neck between his fingers and the palm of his hand while he chokes the cheekiness out of her, and every other way he wishes to render he breathless.
"I wish I could explain it but I can't. I thought I might have been afraid of the book. The story. Just as I was afraid of you," she explains.
He frowns, wishing he could erase the memory of what happened the day he chose to punish her physically.
"Afraid," she repeats with a nod. "But it's more than fear. It is an agonising feeling and it wont go away," she adds.
Finally, he takes a step closer to her. "Show me," he says.
Her eyes widen, but she doesn't back away. And although she is still flustered, there is a growing fire in her eyes that shows how unlikely it is that she will cower away like a shy little girl.
She takes his hand, bringing it closer and closer to her thighs, and rests it between her legs, close to the crotch of her shorts.
"Can you feel it?" she says, her voice lower now. "The heat."
He snatches his hand away, turning and returning to his seat. "I've changed my mind," he says.
"W-what?" she blinks, folding her arms over herself, suddenly very, very cold.
"I won't help you," he adds, his eyes dropping to the pages of his book.
"Why not?"
"Because I've changed my mind."
He doesn't offer any kind of explanation because he is afraid to say why he retreated so fast. He was about to toy with her, make her regret making such bold advances towards him, and never feign this ridiculous innocence again.
"Should I not have told you?" she asks. She might truly be innocent afterall.
"You're clueless, aren't you?" he muses. She frowns, still obviously very confused.
"Who sent you?" he says.
"Sent me?"
He looks up at her. He wonders if a whole camera crew might pop out of the shadows and declare that this is all just a prank. Unfortunately, it is all very real.
"You're not. You're not real," he mutters.
Jane turns on her heels and begins exploring the shelves.
"I am real," she confirms.
Another unfortunate fact. The girl he is so excruciatingly drawn to is very real, very out of bounds and very much too pure and kind hearted for him. His reason for retreating is the fear of defiling such a brilliant innocence.
Finally, she snags a book, holding it to her chest.
"Are you going to punish me for this too?" she says dryly.
"Yes. Detention. Monday evening."
She sighs, rolling her eyes. "You better be worth it," she says to the book in her hands before smiling and skipping away.