Chapter Text
Marya walks down the littered and tarmacked Chapel Place and turns into Tomson's Passage, a familiar route during her school days when she scuttled across classrooms between periods, backpack heaving with books. Today she walked more leisurely. She has passed her post-grad exams and a weight has been lifted off her shoulders. A faint hint of nostalgia hangs in the air - while 6 years had passed since she left St. Charles Grammar, some fond memories mulled, others faded, while others shed sooner forget remained burnt in her amygdala.
It was 4.30 on a quiet Wednesday and where you would often find a few kids bouncing through Tomson's Passage after an after school club, there was an empty channel as the summer holidays had started and those kids were likely wading through the sandy beach not far from where Marya stood. Cutting through the humid air that settled in the ivy lined fieldstone walls, she slows as the decaying door leading to the Red Cottage opens. She instinctively draws her head down, wanting to hide but shifts her eyes forward, trying to catch a glimpse of who was leaving hoping to it was anyone but Mr Tanner. Her heart sinks as a all too familiar voice rings out. It's too late to turn around and she has no place to hide. Stepping out, Mr Tanner brushes his hand through his thick mousey hair, now speckled with white. His eyes are bright, framed by crows feet. He holds the door of the open for a moment as younger man steps out. They shared a few words and a slow chuckle before the younger man saunters away towards Clarendon Gardens.
Mr Tanner turned for a moment, tugging at the large padlock hanging from the decaying door. Perhaps it wasn't too late, maybe Marya could escape. Small beads of gravel roll and crunch under her heels as she slowly turns. "Marya, aren't you going to say hello?".
Her eyes clamp shut as the words echo through the empty passage. Marya embodies the man in Munch's 'The Scream' and a similar blood red sky settles above her. A few seconds elapse before a shy smile reluctantly sweeps across across her face as she tries to swallow the bubbling unease rising up her throat. "Mr Tanner! How are you?". Her enthusiasm catches them both by surprise and makes her cringe - she was overcompensating having been caught trying to leave quite clumsily. She pushes her thick ebony hair behind her ears and adjust the straps of her tote bag, hesitating, or more truthfully, struggling to look directly at him.
"Good thanks" he says wryly as he steps towards her, an eyebrow raises as he asks "Back home for the summer?". He's now but a few inches away from Marya, the closest they've have been for years.
There was so much she wanted to say; she wanted to boast about how well she'd been doing, how she'd finally made it to medical school, about how often she fantasised about him but Marya was only able to spit out a feeble "yes" as she glanced at her tattered trainers which become ever interesting by the second. Mr Tanner sensed that his wry approach may have something to do with her new-found interest in the floor and places a hand on her shoulder. Marya's head shoots up and her dark eyes finally meet his, glassy and full of want. "You were right you know". His voice was low, almost a whisper.
Somewhere a flip switched in Marya and she draws on a surge of confidence, or desperation, or recklessness - it was unclear. She had nothing more to loose since she'd already embarrassed herself in front of Mr Tanner years ago. Marya was convinced Mr Tanner never gave her a second though after their last interaction, why would he, she was one in a sea of thousands of students he had taught, many of them far prettier than she was. Why would he care what she thought, he was a grown man with a life of his own, what could Marya do to would warrant any consideration more than a mere mention in the staff room, if that? With her own insignificance in mind, her resolve strengthened - she would not falter, she would not crumble and she would not embarrass herself. Her back straightens as she folds her arms fold under her breasts, creating a barrier between their bodies.
Marya, often eager (if not desperate) to please, surprises herself and plays coy, "I'm right about a lot of things, so you'll have to be more specific". Her reply is almost cruel in the face of Mr Tanner's tearful expression but a small smile escapes him as he shakily draws breath. He grabs her wrist firmly and pulls her into a smaller side passage. "You were right. I was mad when you didn't choose my class in Sixth Form". A flurry of emotions erupt in Marya but vindication was foremost - she had accused Mr Tanner of the very same the last time she spoke to him eight years ago - something he adamantly denied before proceeding to avoid her for two years. The accompanying satisfaction was quickly followed by rising unease. Her calm façade had been disarmed and any power her coyness bought her evaporated as heat flooded her cheeks. Having been perpetually single, Marya often deluded her herself with regards to her attractiveness with the aim of self-preservation. However, in this instance, she was wracked by real worry - there was a real risk that she was going to be confronted and rejected by a man she was desperately in love (if not lust) with since she was 15.
She hadn't said a word this whole time and the silence prompted him to fill the void. "I'm mad because I've wanted you for so long and I thought I could at least spend time with you if you had chosen my class . I could've watched your pull your tights across your legs in the classroom. I could've helped you at the photocopier you were helpless at. I could've guided your hands in the workshop". He stepped closer. "I wanted to spread you across the table and have you, take you completely, you would've been mine". Marya been holding her breath this whole time. A heavy drumming echoed in her ears as her heart threatened to beat out of her chest.
His hands softly land on her shoulders but the increasing pressure from the pads of his fingers prompt her to inhale sharply. "Say something, please" he pants, eyebrows furrowed and pleading. A worrying number of seconds pass, short enough for him to start panic and regret his confession but long enough for Marya to think of a reply. "Which table?"
His eyelids slowly close as he takes a deep breath and a small smile builds as relief floods across his face, melting the worry creasing his eyebrows. His hands slowly snake from her shoulders down the curve of her back and pause at her waist. A thin layer of green cotton separates Marya from him. His grip tightens around her ample curves and he pulls her near. His face draws closer, his nose brushes against hers as his tongue slowly teases her lips. Marya's arms wraps around the nape of his neck and bridge the gap between them. His hands wonder, one stretching across her shoulders, the other to her arse which he grips and kneads. She is completely enveloped by his towering frame. Marya's fingers branch across the back of his head, grabbing fists of hair. He uses his foot to push her legs apart, holding her firm so she wouldn't slip and pushes his hips into the opening he had made. His hips rock back and forth as Marya's neck falls back. She feels a warm, wet pool begin to collect between her thighs.
Marya takes his hand, large and calloused, from her arse, places a kiss on his palm and pushes it against her breast. His fingers dig into her soft skin. Low moans escape them both between wet kisses. His hand slides down her chest, under her t-shirt and pulls away the fabric cupping her breast to reveal an erect nipple. The pulling and teasing make Marya writhe under his strong legs, half in pleasure, half in agony, desperately wanting more. Mr Tanner's hand slowly makes its way down her jeans, unbuttoning them to ease his journey to between her thighs. A gasp escapes her as he inserts a thick finger in her aching pussy. Marya's legs crumbled but Mr Tanner refused to let up, her moans spurring his finger to quicken.
In tandem, Marya grabs Mr Tanner's cock, his heavy navy twill trousers failing to conceal his excitement. Warm air spreads across the side of her face as he whispers "Do you know how long I've wanted you? How hard it's been trying to resist you?". Marya hastily undoes his brown leather belt, the metallic clinks of the large buckle ring between their heavy panting. Her hand digs into his boxers and struggles to wrap around his solid member. "I wish you tried less" Marya whined. He begins to rut against her hand and the pace of his finger slows as he becomes distracted by his own growing desperation. Marya whispers "cum for me" and he is undone. A husky "fuuck..." escapes Mr Tanner as his head falls onto her shoulder and rugged moans escape him as waves of pleasure ebb.
Marya was quite satisfied with herself but Mr Tanner had not forgot her pleasure and his finger resumed, alternating between fast and slow. Marya's back curved as he placed a a cascade of kisses along her neck and décolletage. Her hands pushed against his firm chest, pleading him to ease but Mr Tanner was unrelenting. A pressure built deep inside her as Mr Tanner encircled her swollen clit. Finally, a long moan spilled out of her, culminating in spent panting. Mr Tanner's lips curved as he purred "You don't know how long I've wanted to do that". He draws the finger away, now glistening with her juices and sucks it clean, savouring its sweet notes.
Marya and Mr Tanner rest against opposite walls of the side passage, their chests rising and falling as they stood satisfied and dizzy in a haze of lust. They step forward to bridge the gap between them and adjust each other's clothes. Marya zips his trousers and buckles his belt, shyness now replacing the lust that had possessed her moments ago. Mr Tanner fixes her bra, restores her t-shirt that had hitched up her ribcage and returns her tote bag to her shoulder. As he smooths her hair, Myra felt the air thicken with an unfamiliar sense of domesticity. Mr Tanner lifts her chin so her eyes meet his and traces her lips with the finger that had been inside her not long ago before placing a long kiss on her mouth, his tongue twirling around hers. Mr Tanner pulls away and paws his stubble speckled jaw, pleased with his handiwork but not satiated. "So when am I fucking you on that table?"