Roland DeForrest - The Erotic Quest of Dirk and Honey

“ Merci , Mademoiselle Orleans,” Honey said graciously, and moved to join Brigitte by the open door. “I will be looking forward to that enormously. Adieu for now.”

Outside the office, Brigitte’s posture drooped into a more contemporary slouch and she eyed Honey brazenly as they walked down the hall to the records room. Honey took the opportunity to question the girl about the night of Kolina’s disappearance. Alas, Brigitte furnished no new information. Kolina had been in their room when Brigitte fell asleep, and was not there upon her awakening. And no, she could not imagine what had become of her. And no, she knew of no boyfriends or enemies who would be involved. Kolina was loved by everyone.

Kolina’s school file offered little that Honey had not already learned. The girl was in the top five percentile of her class scholastically and was involved in numerous extracurricular activities, from playing a position on the field hockey team to winning an all-school poetry prize, to playing the lead in Hamlet the year before. As Honey sat in the stuffy records room, which was crammed with cabinets and dusty ledgers, Brigitte slumped against the table, observing her every movement. Occasionally, Honey would raise her head to ask a question and find the girl staring with obvious interest. Brigitte was blessed with rosy cheeks and a pouty little mouth that demanded attention. Her uniform was deliberately designed by the school to cover any budding pubescence, but her manner left little to the imagination. The girl was already more than sexually aware, Honey guessed. It was apparent in her steady knowing gaze. Honey did her best to concentrate on the file before her, but a soft rustling sound broke her efforts.

Leaning against the closed door, Brigitte had removed her blazer and was slowly unbuttoning her blouse under the wide blue tie. Through lowered lashes, her eyes simmered. “I think you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” she said, her young voice dripping with sexual innuendo.

“Thank you for the compliment,” Honey said, as coolly as she could under the circumstances, “but I’m afraid you have an overly active imagination.”

Brigitte threw back her tie over one shoulder and parted her blouse seductively. Her surprisingly mature breasts burst into view, their dark centers enticingly firm, like plums ready to be plucked from a tree.

“Brigitte,” Honey sighed in warning from her chair, “you are a fetching bundle, to be sure, but now is not the time or the place. Je vous remercie , anyway.”

“You are ‘chicken’-is that not the right word?”

“Right. Now cover yourself before we find more than we can handle.”

“I want you to handle me… please… just a little?” She bounced forward and thrust her teasing tits into Honey’s face. A firm young hand snaked around Honey’s neck, pressing her head forward toward the tempting offerings. Honey had little desire to resist. She stuck out her tongue and sampled one of the plump brown nipples by taking a discreet lick. Abruptly, Brigitte jerked Honey’s head closer, jamming the tender young breast fully into her face. The youthful flesh tasted sweet and fresh, but Honey twisted away. “Sometime later, my pet,” she said, and stood with great difficulty, her knees quaking with desire. She managed to move to the other side of the conference table, where she looked back with a longing gaze.

Brigitte had flung herself flat on the tabletop and hiked up her skirt over her waist, shoving a hand down her pristine white panties. “I am hot for you,” Brigitte panted, her fingers speedily working under the tight white cotton. “See?” she croaked, and snapped down the waistband of her panties to her firm young thighs. Her pussy lay open like a halved walnut, the fringe of soft brown hair like foliage around an oasis. She parted the tender lips even further with her fingers. “Eat me… I’m begging you… eat me before I cry.”

With a resolve she had difficulty calling into play, Honey shook her head sadly and remained on her own side of the table. “Brigitte,” she admonished. “You are only making it hard on both of us. Cover yourself at once, before-”

The door behind Honey flew open and the headmistress stepped into the room, carrying a fat file folder. A squeal of astonishment and anger broke from her open mouth. “Brigitte!” she hissed. The girl jumped from the table, frantically trying to cover herself. Immediately contrite, she pulled her blazer over her still-open blouse and, ducking her head, ran past the startled headmistress and disappeared down the hall.

Claude Orleans turned an icy glare on Honey and, head held high on her long neck, sputtered in rage, “ C’est incroyable! ” With that, she spun on her heel and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Moments later, Honey knocked on her office door and, without waiting for a reply, walked in. Claude Orleans whirled from the window where she had been weeping. “How dare you come in without my-”

Honey shut the door forcefully behind her, cutting off Claude’s outburst. With a mischievous glint in her eye, Honey snapped the lock on the big oak door and marched to the desk. “Claude,” she said, “I am innocent of any wrongdoing. Brigitte is a precocious, forward young lady who flung herself at me. What was I to do?”

“Leave the room at once.”

“Now or then?”

“Both,” Claude snapped.

“Well, I didn’t, and I won’t,” Honey fumed. “You are a blind fool if you don’t think that kind of thing goes on at a girls’ school. My first lover was my roommate, and we still get it on whenever we’re together. She taught me more about about love and sexual pleasure than anyone I’ve had since, and it all began at a girls school exactly like Bon Coeur. Surely you are aware that it is normal and healthy to-”

It was Claude’s turn to cut in, and she did so with a vengeance. “I am not concerned with your disgusting escapades away from this school. What I am deeply concerned about is how you conduct yourself while you are here… as a guest . I have never been so thoroughly mortified by anyone’s actions before. I am deeply disappointed that a woman of your position-”

Honey couldn’t take it a moment longer. She strode around the desk as if to strike Claude. Instead, Honey grabbed the young woman’s shoulders, pulled her close, and kissed her fervently and feverishly on the lips. Claude struggled in her embrace, but Honey would not let her squirm free. She pressed her breasts into the taut, slender frame until she began to feel Claude soften and respond.

With a groan of surrender, Claude threw her arms around Honey, and her torso collapsed with a growing passion. They hugged each other, kissing each other’s faces, their breaths quickening, scorching the air between them. Honey caressed Claude’s back and trailed a hand down to stroke the soft buttocks beneath the gray jersey skirt. Honey skilfully laid her back over the desktop, bringing up a thigh and pressing it on Claude’s mons veneris. Even through the layers of clothing, Claude’s pussy felt as hot as a volcano ready to erupt. Wanting to fire it even more, Honey slipped a hand up Claude’s leg, over and around inside the knee, up the thigh to the top of the stockings, across the swatch of silky skin to the front of Claude’s panties. Honey was surprised to find that the headmistress’s choice of lingerie was more daring than her outer garments. The panties were of lace, and skimpy, very French and soaking wet over the crotch. Excited by the discovery, Honey poked a friendly finger under a side of the panties and had just reached her goal when Claude clamped her thighs tightly together.

“My students,” she panted.