The warm afternoon sunlight streamed through the classroom windows, causing a golden glow on Maeve Brooklyn and Mark Thompson. The scent of freshly sharpened pencils and dusty chalks filled the air. You could hear the soft jazz that drifted from the nearby music room, mingling with the sound of Maeve's gentle moans.
Maeve leaned against the desk, her lips locked with Mark's, their passionate kiss intensifying. Mark's hands wandered, sending shivers down her spine. She let out a moan in response. Her fingers intertwined with his, feeling the warmth of his skin.
The taste of his minty breath with her strawberry lip gloss and the sound of rustling papers and creaking wood desks filled the silence between kisses.
His low musky baritone, whispers against her lips, " You're breathtaking, Maeve," Mark whispered, his voice husky. "I've never met anyone like you. You drive me crazy. " He stops briefly to take in her exposed self.
She still had her clothes on, barely, her skirt lifted above her waistline. Her shirt had been unbuttoned and her bra unclipped, revealing her plump skin to him. His eyes savaged her with deep lust—the look of hunger in them, like ones who could devour her whole.
Maeve's eyes sparkled, her voice barely above a whisper. " You're not supposed to say things like that, Mr Thompson"
He grumbled low, with his face in her plump skin. "I told you to call me Mark when it's only both of us"
As Mark's hands explored her curves, Maeve's eyes fluttered open, meeting Oliver Hathaway's gaze.
The classroom door creaked open, breaking the spell as Oliver entered. He stood frozen for a second, witnessing their intimate moment. Mark was the only one to react hastily to tidy himself, his face flushed with embarrassment. However, Maeve whipped her hair back as she leaned still in her pose. Maeve smiled casually, her cheeks rosy.
"Oh my, I didn't hear you come in, Ollie," Maeve said, her voice husky.
Oliver's expression remained neutral, but his eyes betrayed his discomfort. He nodded curtly. "Just here to collect something from my locker," Oliver said dryly, his voice laced with tension.
Mark's smile faltered for a moment before he regained composure. "Oliver, good timing. Maeve and I were just... discussing math."
Maeve chuckled, rolling her eyes. "Save it, Mr. Thompson."
As Oliver's gaze lingered on Maeve, searching for reassurance, the sound of the school's intercom crackled to life, announcing the next period. Maeve, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to his concern.
Mark had already made his way out of the classroom, leaving Maeve and Oliver alone. Maeve approached Oliver slowly from behind as she hugged him tightly, her plump skin pressing against his broad back. Her head rested against his broad back, inhaling the subtle aroma of his cologne.
"You came here to warn me, didn't you? " She asked, her sweet smile evident in her voice.
Oliver had turned to face her, his eyes darting away from her revealed self. Her shirt was still unbuttoned, and her bra was unclipped, exposing her curves.
"You shouldn't be doing things like this. What if you get caught? Your father will not like to hear of this," Oliver nagged, his hands instinctively reaching out to button her shirt and cover her up.
Her hands draped on her waist, and her chin tilted with a spark of chime and witty confidence. "Who's going to tell him? Certainly not you," she let him dress her up, and just in time before someone walked in.
"Be careful, Maeve," Oliver whispered, his voice urgent. " You're not just risking your reputation; You're risking your heart. Mark's not worth it."
Maeve's smile faltered for a moment before she regained composure. " I can handle myself, Ollie. You don't need to worry."
As they stood there, the classrooms' silence emphasized the tension between them. The taste of Maeve's strawberry lip gloss lingered on Oliver's mind, a reminder of her vulnerability.
Oliver walked down the hallway, lost in thought. The sound of lockers slamming and students chatting filled the air. The scent of freshly waxed floors and lingering perfume wafted through his nostrils.
He spotted Maeve laughing with friends, her bright smile and carefree laughter contrasting with the unease Oliver felt.
Oliver narrowed his eyes, his mind replaying the classroom scene. He couldn't shake the image of Maeve's exposed skin, Mark's hands roaming her curves. He crumpled his fist at thoughts plaguing his mind continuously.
******
Maeve Brooklyn sat poised amidst her crowded table, surrounded by friends and classmates. The cafeteria buzzed with conversation and laughter, thes cent of freshly baked pizza and simmering pasta sauce wafting through the air.
Isabelle Devereaux, Maeve's French friend, chatted animatedly beside her, her gesturing emphatically. Across the table, Tiffany Patel and Emily Chen gossiped about the latest scandal, their voices hushed and excited.
Tiffany's eyes widened as she gazed at Maeve's designer handbag. " Maeve, your leather designer handbag is exquisite! Are those the latest designs from the Devereaux Boutique?"
Maeve's smile was effortless, her fingers tracing the luxury leather's intricate stitching. "They do have impeccable taste in fashion. I just happened to collect the first and only edition."
Isabelle chimed in, her French accent musical. "Our family has a tight history with one another," Isabelle chipped in, referring to Maeve's family and hers. "It was designed just for her. You couldn't find it anywhere else."
Jullian leaned in, attempting to match their tone, his eyes gleaming with ambition. "Seems like a regular bag to me, and it looks similar to the one my cousin got from overseas. It was also a limited edition."
Maeve's eye sparkled, levelling Julian. "Oh, is that so? I didn't know your cousin could afford a limited edition," her voice laced with a subtle disdain.
Julian's smile faltered, realising Maeve's subtle jab.
Emily chimed in, keeping up with the pace. " Speaking of exclusives, have you heard about the upcoming Gala?"
Maeve's interest was piqued, her gaze intensifying. " Which one?"
Emily's eyes locked onto Maeve's. "Gabes Foundation, Rumour has it, they're auctioning off a rare diamond necklace."
Maeve's gaze intensified. "That sounds... intriguing."
Isabelle intervened, her voice tinged with a soft whine, "But you already agreed to come with me to my mother's evening party. She will be the co-hosting and will be expecting your arrival. ," Isabella said,
Maeve's smile was dismissive. "Oh, come on. It's just one event. Missing this one would hardly cause any harm."
"You are meant to showcase the Devereaux's latest and only design. It will affect my mother's work if you don't show up," she said, with a hint of caution.
"And here I thought you wouldn't ever want to use me for your politics. You are not taking me as a friend, but some property right now. My feelings are hurt right now," Maeve said, feigning hurt. Julian swooped in at that moment, taking her palm and giving a stern look at her.
"Apologise to her this instant. How could treat her way? " He said harshly to Isabelle. She looked taken aback by his tone. Her words fumbled, and she quickly apologised to Maeve.
"I'm sorry," she said, between gritted teeth.
"I couldn't quite hear you over the loud noises everyone was making. " Maeve put her ear closer to her so she could listen better.
"I said I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt your feelings. You are my most cherished friend." Maeve smiled brightly at her. "Of course, we are very good friends."
Isabelle wanted to refute further but saw if she stepped more out of line. She would be at the receiving end of Maeve's quick temper. Maeve smiled at her quick actions and shifted her focus to Emily. "So tell me more about this auction," she asked.
"Maeve! You would look stunning with that diamond necklace," Julian said, flirting shamelessly.
Maeve countered, her gaze piercing. "Does that imply I need to always wear it to look stunning? "
Julian fumbled nervously, " I mean, you look gorgeous as always... and even with the necklace, you'd glow brighter." He rambled. However, her look of disdain was only more evident than before.
How childish, she thought.
Maeve's gaze drifted over Oliver as he passed by her and their eyes met briefly, and their gazes locked on one another. Maeve's expression softened before he disappeared off with some of his friends from the basketball team.
Isabelle nudged Maeve. " Oliver's playing this evening. How about we stop by and cheer him on?"
Julian tried to capture Maeve's attention again. "I'll reserve you a front-row seat, beautiful."
Maeve's patience wore thin. "Julian, stop. I'm not interested."
Isabelle stepped in, her French accent firm. "Julian, laisse Maeve tranquille. She's not buying what you're selling."
She remembered the fact Mr. Thompson happened to be the one in charge of the basketball team, and she smiled knowingly. "I guess having a look won't be much of a hassle, Let's go then" the electrifying thoughts only she was aware of roamed through her head. She licked her lower lips in anticipation.