Exeter Embrace
"When history teacher Miss Afolabi chaperones a school trip, she ends up sharing a room with parent volunteer Derek. One thing leads to another in their cozy Exeter B&B."
"There's been a booking error. We only have one room left with two beds."
Miss Afolabi—Yemisi—looked at Derek and felt her face heat. He was a parent volunteer on this Exeter cathedral trip, recently divorced, and she'd been trying not to notice how handsome he was.
"We could try another hotel," Derek suggested.
"Everything's booked. Cathedral festival." The receptionist shrugged. "I'm sorry."
Yemisi took a breath. "We're adults. Two beds. It'll be fine."
Derek met her eyes. "It'll be fine."
Neither of them believed it.
The room was small but clean. Two single beds, barely three feet apart. A shared bathroom. Very little privacy.
"I'll change in the bathroom," Yemisi said.
"Of course."
She locked herself in, heart pounding. Derek was her student's father. This was wildly inappropriate. She needed to maintain professional boundaries.
But when she came out in her modest pajamas and found him in just a t-shirt and joggers, those muscles visible through thin cotton, boundaries felt very theoretical.
"I'll take the bed by the window," he offered.
"Thank you."
They lay in darkness, two feet apart, neither sleeping.
"Can I ask you something?" His voice was soft in the dark.
"Yes."
"Why aren't you married? Beautiful, smart, clearly great with kids."
"I could ask you the same. Why did your marriage end?"
He was quiet for a moment. "She said I was too focused on being a father. Not enough on being a husband."
"That sounds like her problem, not yours."
"Maybe." He turned to face her, and even in the dark, she could feel his gaze. "Your turn."
"I just never found the right person. Too busy building my career."
"You're not that old."
"Thirty-five."
"Prime of life."
"Derek..."
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't—we should sleep."
"I don't think I can sleep." She turned toward him. "Not with you right there."
"Then what do you want to do?"
The question hung between them, heavy with possibility.
"Something unprofessional," she admitted.
The sound of him getting up, crossing the three feet between their beds, settling beside her on the narrow mattress—it all happened in a blur.
"Tell me to stop," he whispered.
"Don't stop."
He kissed her, and it was better than she'd imagined in her most private moments. His hands found the hem of her pajama top, asking permission. She answered by pulling it over her head.
"God, Yemisi," he breathed, taking in her full breasts, her soft curves.
"Touch me. Please."
He did. Reverently at first, then with growing hunger. Her body responded like it had been waiting for exactly this.
"We shouldn't," she gasped as his mouth found her breast.
"I know."
"Don't stop."
"I won't."
He made love to her like he had all the time in the world. Slow, thorough, attentive. Her thick body opened for him, welcoming, desperate.
"Yes—oh God—right there—"
She came three times before he finally let himself go. The narrow bed creaked dangerously, but neither cared.
"That was..." She couldn't find words.
"Yeah." He pulled her close. "Same."
They fell asleep tangled together, professional boundaries thoroughly destroyed.
Morning came too soon. The trip continued—cathedrals, history lessons, students none the wiser. But every time their eyes met, something electric passed between them.
"What happens when we get back to London?" she asked on the coach ride home.
"Dinner? Saturday?"
"Your daughter is in my class."
"I know." He took her hand, hidden by the seat in front of them. "We'll be careful. Discrete. But I'm not willing to pretend this didn't happen."
"Neither am I."
They dated secretly until term ended. Then, one September, Derek's daughter came home with news.
"Miss Afolabi isn't my teacher anymore! She moved to upper school!"
"Is that so?" Derek said innocently.
"And Dad says she's coming to dinner tonight. Isn't that weird?"
"Very weird," Yemisi agreed from the kitchen doorway. "But sometimes life surprises you."
Derek pulled her close, finally free to show affection in front of his daughter.
"Gross," his daughter proclaimed.
But she was smiling. And so was Yemisi. Exeter had given her something better than history. It had given her a future.