“I am not going to lend any credence whatsoever to a witch hunt that is targeting my graduate student.”
David frowned at her through the phone. “Without your testimony, it’s quite possible a grave injustice might occur. You might be exactly what we need to clear Miss Mitchell’s name.”
“Codswallop! It’s your responsibility to see that justice is served. I’m surprised that you have taken the complaint seriously. Quite surprised. And wipe that frown off your face, David. I can hear you sulking and I don’t appreciate it.”
The Dean suppressed a Lithuanian curse. “Professor Picton, are you refusing to answer my questions?”
“Are you hard of hearing? Or has your quest for administrative power made you intellectually lazy? I’ve said that I refuse to cooperate. I don’t work for the university anymore. I am retired. Furthermore, I will be bringing this matter up over dinner tonight at the President’s house. I’m sure he and his guests will be most interested in how the administration of his own university is operating.
“And by the way, the dinner party is being given in honor of Mary Asprey, the famous novelist. As an alumna, I know she takes an avid interest in the affairs of her alma mater, particularly the more patriarchal machinations. I wonder what she’ll make of this?”
And with that, Professor Picton hung up.
*
When Gabriel and Julia finally arrived at the Turtle Inn resort in Belize, it was late in the evening and the stars were already out. Julia explored their accommodations—a private hut on a secluded beach—while Gabriel ordered room service.
The walls of their hut were white, with the exception of a row of tall, teak panels that accordioned to open out onto the covered porch. The ceilings were a mixture of bamboo and thatch, and a large bed was centered in the room, shrouded in mosquito netting. Julia was particularly taken with the open air shower and bathtub that were located on a side veranda.
While Gabriel wrestled with the kitchen staff over the telephone, Julia quickly slipped out of her clothes and took a shower. The space was not completely closed, affording the bather a view of the ocean. But since it was dark out and they were on a private beach, there was no possibility of being surprised by anyone, apart from one’s lover.
“Dinner will arrive in about an hour. I’m sorry it’s going to take so long.” Gabriel licked his lips as he took in the sight of Julia in her bathrobe.
In contrast, he’d changed into a white linen shirt that was mostly unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms. He wore khaki pants with the hems rolled up, exposing his bare feet.
(Parenthetically, it should be noted that even his feet were attractive.)
“Would you like to take a walk with me on the beach?”
“I think I’d rather do something else.” She tugged him, smiling, toward the bed, and gave him a gentle push so he was seated on its edge.
He caught her by the belt of her robe. “I’d be content just to relax. It was a long trip.” His face showed that he was in earnest, which somewhat surprised her.
“I miss you.” Her voice dropped to a throaty whisper.
He pulled her so she was standing in between his knees and slid his hands to rest on her backside. “We could nap before dinner. There’s no rush.”
She rolled her eyes. “Gabriel, I want you to make love to me. If you’re saying no, just tell me.”
He gave her a very wide, very delighted grin. “I’d never say no to you, Miss Mitchell.”
“Good. Give me five minutes, Professor Emerson.”
He sank down on his back, his feet still on the floor. Julia’s newfound confidence was absolutely enticing. In a single sentence, she’d aroused him so much that he was already suffering.
It seemed like forever, but it was really only a few minutes later when Julia emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in his Christmas gift. The black satin fabric accentuated the pink and cream of her skin, while the corset itself made her breasts look fuller and her waist smaller. Gabriel couldn’t help but admire the exquisite hourglass that was Julia’s now transformed figure.
His eyes hungrily regarded the merest glimpse of black lace panties, paired with black-silk stockings that were held up by a garter belt. Finally and gloriously, a pair of black pumps decorated her feet.
Gabriel nearly had a heart attack when he gazed at the shoes alone.
“Bonsoir, Professeur. Vous allez bien?” Julia purred.
It took a moment for him to figure out why she’d made this linguistic choice, so taken as he was by her figure and her footwear.
Julia was wearing his beret.
When his eyes finally met hers, she watched him swallow hard. She pouted at him provocatively and removed her hat, tossing it at him. After he threw it aside, she walked slowly, very slowly, to the bed.
“I really like my Christmas present, Professor.”
Gabriel gulped, at a loss for words.