Page 2

“Well, then…” Professor Dorsea seemed to be lost for words. Magdalene was secretly very pleased indeed.Suited her well.Professor Dorsea hadn’t had anything to say earlier either, when the trustees and the Board had decided to expel one Magdalene Smith from the school.

A gust of wind battered at the surrounding jasmine bushes, enveloping everything in their subtle sugary scent. Dammit, some things she would actually miss. As for the rest? Well, itcouldall burn. And if it didn’t? She’d have to return, then… Just to make sure.

2

OF FAKE ORGASMS & REAL NEWS

Now…

It wasn’tthe first time she’d had to fake an orgasm. It probably wouldn’t be the last. But for some reason, this particular instance just made her sad and not a little irritable. Maybe because the entire evening felt like false advertisement.

First of all, the woman was sublime. And yet… The ‘yet’ did not occur to Magdalene until it was perhaps a touch too late. Mostly due to the aforementioned sublimeness.

The tall, sultry brunette had zeroed in on Magdalene the moment she’d walked in and pursued her relentlessly until they ended up on the luxurious king-size bed in the hotel room upstairs.

Well, technically, they’d ended up on the elevator first. Where Magdalene made her come and held a hand over those pouty lips to avoid getting arrested for public indecency. Though this was New York and perhaps they would get cheers instead? Possibly wagers?

In any case, Magdalene had plans and did not want them ruined by crowds. She wasn’t into exhibitionism. She was very much a one-on-one type of person.

Hence, she took her time against the door of the massive suite, where she no longer bothered to keep her companion silent. In fact, she enjoyed the screams immensely. Was the woman overdoing it? Maybe a little. But the muscles squeezing Magdalene’s fingers didn’t lie. Either in the elevator, or against a wall, or on the thick carpet that muffled most of the theatrical performance the woman indulged in.

However, it was when Magdalene finally allowed herself to be taken—on the silk sheets, thank you very much—that she realized this would be one of those times where her own acting skills would be put to the test.

She did what she could at first. Orgasms, on occasion, were work. And so she labored towards one with what little help she was getting from the mouth between her legs.

But it was to no avail.

Hence that very sad aforementioned ‘yet’. The woman was beautiful and passionate, charming and persistent. And yet…

Magdalene faked her climax with years of practice and resoundingly positive reviews, and for a while, only loud breathing could be heard.

As her chest rose and fell, her thoughts turned to the clothes strewn all over the expensive rug and along the path towards the exit door. Would it be terribly gauche to get up right away? She was supposed to still be in the afterglow of a monumental release… But did she really care when she would never see this woman again?

When the breathing to her left evened out and turned into a soft snore, Magdalene thought that the universe balanced itself. No orgasm. But no awkward conversation post-encounter either.

As she slipped out the door, her Louboutins dangling from her fingers, Magdalene didn’t look back at the sated figure she left behind.

* * *

“You’re on time…”

The brilliant, perhaps a bit too bright, smile of her ex-husband greeted her from the table the maitre d’ had led her to. Timothy said nothing, just jumped solicitously to his feet, shooed the distinguished man away, and pulled out her chair himself. His hand gently caressed the curve of her back as she lowered herself into the seat. Magdalene wanted to roll her eyes. So it was going to be that kind of breakfast.

“I missed you. I couldn’t wait to see you.”

This time, she did not restrain her impulse. His smile widened at her eye roll and before she knew it, he was waving over their server and doing what he’d always done for the entirety of their marriage. He took over.

When he’d finished rattling off both their orders, Magdalene raised her eyes to the young woman diligently scrawling in her notebook and waited. Predictably—since thiswasa woman—once she’d completed her task, she met Magdalene’s gaze.

“I’ll have a double espresso now and as for the rest, I’ll have Eggs Benedict.”

“Yes, ma’am,” and “Magdalene!” sounded simultaneously, and the server departed with a slight smirk. When she turned back to Timothy, Magdalene was faced with a petulant pout she wasn’t as well-acquainted with as the once-beloved expressive aquamarine eyes. Again she wondered when life had shredded the two of them into tiny, unrecognizable pieces, leaving a feature here and there, perhaps to confuse them both with familiarity when they no longer knew each other.

The face she’d once said ‘I do’ to, slowly turned neutral, although both excitement and petulance still chased each other in those mercurial depths. Was this why she’d never felt quite sure of her footing with him when they’d been married? The lack of steadiness, for want of a better word?

They both shook their heads, as if clearing the cobwebs of their own thoughts, and this time, when they smiled at each other, it was sincere.

“I am an ass?” His voice was quiet, sprinkled with enough contrition to mask the mischief, but Magdalene saw he wasn’t sorry. And she also knew him well enough to predict that he would always try to order for her, no matter how many breakfasts they had together.