The lovers

The book in my hand trembled as I felt the tips of his fingers brush against my arm; the thrill of the unknown shivered down my spine as I inhaled his heady scent. I was confused, only a moment ago this man was telling me to sit up straight and enunciate, and now his body seemed to be moving ever so gently in to mine. I allowed my eyes to close, just for a second, and to enjoy the feel of his heated breath caressing my ear.

I could not help the sigh which escaped my lips. My shoulders relaxed and my carefully upheld posture disintegrated; my lady-like facade replaced with that of a smitten little girl. Young and naive. When I looked up I found myself confronted by the most startling green eyes; flecks of gold danced across their surface. I was lost forever.

And then he did the strangest thing. Whilst holding my gaze with those beautifully hypnotic eyes, he raised his hand, so slowly that I wasn't even aware of it. The motion was so subtle and gentle that before I knew it his hand was at my face and I could not help inclining my head to meet it. The back of his fingers stroked my cheek, moving toward my hair and neck. I felt him lift a tangle of curls away from my jaw and two fingers settle in to the hollow at the base of my skull, as comfortably as if they'd sought that intimate spot a thousand times before. Those two fingers, that light pressure, drawing me inexorably towards their owner. Closer and closer and never once did our eyes divert, our gaze was unbroken, indeed never could have been broken, by anything but that kiss.

Our lips met. Lightly at first; nervously. Our touch had no more weight than a butterfly. And then all at once our movements became more urgent, our lips pressed harder: as though everything good in the world depended on that kiss...

There was a loud noise and we jumped apart. The spell was broken and I realised that I had dropped my book. The romantic heroes and damsels in distress stared accusingly up at we conspirators from their crumpled leaves. I could almost feel the weight of their disapproval settle on my chest and was immediately consumed by guilt. I wrenched my gaze from the subject of my morning's lessons and turned to face him. The forbidden fruit. My teacher, Paolo.