Chapter 10: Swaying Lilac

Words : 1678 Updated : Sep 18th, 2025

This time they fit together as if made to match. Briana Lyson no longer felt that ache; she kept pace with Nixon Walker's rhythm, slow and controlled, which surprised him. She was remarkably pliable, supple as silk, able to shift into any position he guided her into. Unlike Mckenzie Looske's shy yielding, Briana responded boldly. The stronger his thrust, the hotter her response. Her deepest desire had been awakened. She was nothing like the dignified, elegant woman she was by day. In that moment she felt like a little temptress, all allure and wicked charm; as they went at it without holding back, she felt lightheaded, as if she glimpsed heaven. When it ended, Briana collapsed against him, her right ear pressed to his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Beat for beat, it kept the same rhythm as moments ago. The memory of that heat brought a blush to her cheeks. "Mr. Walker, a man like you must have plenty of girls chasing you in the city," she said. "Not that many." "City girls are probably fairer than I am. I've been weathered by wind and sun out here for a decade. I've almost forgotten what it felt like to be a college student in the city." "Where did you go to college?" "Institute of Education." Briana rubbed her head against his chest, nuzzling him like a kitten. Nixon chuckled. So she'd been a year or two ahead of him at the same school. He cupped Briana's full breasts, kneading them in his hands, and, at the end, gave one a playful bite, leaving a small, bright-red mark. "Oh!" Her voice rose like an invitation. The fire that had flickered out in Nixon flared up again, shamelessly. Briana straddled him, so she felt the change first. She did not hesitate. She sank down onto him. "Ah…" Outside, crickets kept up their chirp, chirp, chirp, as if keeping time. Moonlight bathed the little house, and the mosquito net swayed gently. Heady murmurs drifted through the curtains in snatches, and even the stars seemed ready to blush. When she left, Briana walked a little funny. Their midday tumble had been a quick, perfunctory thing just to prove a point to the village head's wife; this time, they went all out. Sated, Nixon fell asleep with a smile on his face. The next morning, he woke with a start-he was already running late. His head felt foggy. There was no time to rummage in his suitcase for a pill; he grabbed his textbook and headed to class. Luckily, his dorm sat close to the school, only a short walk away. At the school gate, he happened to see Mckenzie Looske walking out. She wore a blue blouse scattered with tiny flowers and a pair of black trousers. Her hair was loosely twisted at the back; a few rebellious strands had slipped free and brushed her cheek. A breeze lifted them so they tickled and danced against her skin. The floral blouse was buttoned up tight, yet the swell of her chest still bounced with each step, straining as if ready to spill free. Just last night he had held them in his hands; now they were neatly tucked away again, which made something in him itch to tear the fabric open. She lifted a hand to tuck those stray hairs behind her ear, spotted Nixon, and came up smiling. "Hey, Mr. Walker, class is about to start. What kept you?" He felt a twinge of embarrassment, scratched his head, and grinned. His eyes, though, drifted to the swell of her chest. "I'm still getting used to things around here." She covered her mouth and giggled, then slipped past him. As she brushed by, close enough for their sleeves to touch, he deliberately let his hand graze her waist. Mckenzie did not notice at first and wobbled, her knees softening, but she steadied herself quickly. She turned and shot him a fierce look; still, there was more tease than anger in her eyes. During class, Ophelia Reed seemed far warmer toward Nixon. The day before, she had stayed silent; today, when he asked questions, she managed to answer a few. The tutoring he had given her yesterday had done some good. After class, Ophelia Reed was the first to rush up and cling to Nixon's leg. "Teacher! Teacher! Mom says you're coming to our house today, right?" Her voice rang out, and the other children heard. They swarmed like hornets, crowding around and grabbing Nixon's legs, clamoring for him to come to their homes too. He felt his face heat. He glanced toward the doorway; thankfully, no one else was around. He pressed a finger to his lips. "Shh-keep it down, okay? I'll visit everyone's home, one at a time. Now head back. We have second period in a few minutes. Take out your Chinese books." The children scattered like startled birds. Only Ophelia lingered, reluctant to go, until Nixon promised again and again that he would visit her home. Then she left. This was a Hope Primary School. The facilities weren't bad. The region, however, was so remote that few teaching support teachers were willing to come out here. Anyone who did come would teach for a year and then leave, so between teachers there was always a stretch with no regular teacher. First grade had gone without a teacher for about two weeks; in that time, teachers from other classes had stepped in to cover. With a new teacher finally in place, the others had a little breathing room and dropped by to see the newcomer for themselves. Nixon was eating at a table in the cafeteria when someone set a lunch tray down across from him. He looked up. A long-haired woman stood there. "I teach second grade. I'm here on teaching support too," she said.

Chapter 10: Swaying Lilac

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