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“Codswallop! It’s your responsibility to see that justice is served.

I’m surprised that you have taken the complaint seriously. Quite

surprised. And wipe that frown off your face, David. I can hear you sulking and I don’t appreciate it.”

The Dean suppressed a Lithuanian curse. “Professor Picton, are

you refusing to answer my questions?”

“Are you hard of hearing? Or has your quest for administrative

power made you intellectually lazy? I’ve said that I refuse to cooperate.

I don’t work for the university anymore. I am retired. Furthermore, I will be bringing this matter up over dinner tonight at the President’s house. I’m sure he and his guests will be most interested in how the administration of his own university is operating.

“And by the way, the dinner party is being given in honor of

Mary Asprey, the famous novelist. As an alumna, I know she takes

an avid interest in the affairs of her alma mater, particularly the more patriarchal machinations. I wonder what she’ll make of this?”

And with that, Professor Picton hung up.

P

When Gabriel and Julia finally arrived at the Turtle Inn resort

in Belize, it was late in the evening and the stars were already out.

Julia explored their accommodations — a private hut on a secluded

beach — while Gabriel ordered room service.

The walls of their hut were white, with the exception of a row of

tall, teak panels that accordioned to open out onto the covered porch.

The ceilings were a mixture of bamboo and thatch, and a large bed

was centered in the room, shrouded in mosquito netting. Julia was

particularly taken with the open air shower and bathtub that were

located on a side veranda.

While Gabriel wrestled with the kitchen staff over the telephone,

Julia quickly slipped out of her clothes and took a shower. The space was not completely closed, affording the bather a view of the ocean.

But since it was dark out and they were on a private beach, there was no possibility of being surprised by anyone, apart from one’s lover.

“Dinner will arrive in about an hour. I’m sorry it’s going to take so long.” Gabriel licked his lips as he took in the sight of Julia in her bathrobe.

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In contrast, he’d changed into a white linen shirt that was mostly unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms. He

wore khaki pants with the hems rolled up, exposing his bare feet.

(Parenthetically, it should be noted that even his feet were

attractive.)

“Would you like to take a walk with me on the beach?”

“I think I’d rather do something else.” She tugged him, smiling,

toward the bed, and gave him a gentle push so he was seated on its edge.

He caught her by the belt of her robe. “I’d be content just to

relax. It was a long trip.” His face showed that he was in earnest, which somewhat surprised her.

“I miss you.” Her voice dropped to a throaty whisper.

He pulled her so she was standing in between his knees and

slid his hands to rest on her backside. “We could nap before dinner.

There’s no rush.”

She rolled her eyes. “Gabriel, I want you to make love to me. If

you’re saying no, just tell me.”

He gave her a very wide, very delighted grin. “I’d never say no

to you, Miss Mitchell.”

“Good. Give me five minutes, Professor Emerson.”

He sank down on his back, his feet still on the floor. Julia’s newfound confidence was absolutely enticing. In a single sentence, she’d aroused him so much that he was already suffering.

It seemed like forever, but it was really only a few minutes later when Julia emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in his Christmas

gift. The black satin fabric accentuated the pink and cream of her skin, while the corset itself made her breasts look fuller and her waist smaller. Gabriel couldn’t help but admire the exquisite hourglass that was Julia’s now transformed figure.

His eyes hungrily regarded the merest glimpse of black lace pant-

ies, paired with black-silk stockings that were held up by a garter belt. Finally and gloriously, a pair of black pumps decorated her feet.

Gabriel nearly had a heart attack when he gazed at the shoes alone.

“Bonsoir, Professeur. Vous allez bien?” Julia purred.

It took a moment for him to figure out why she’d made this

linguistic choice, so taken as he was by her figure and her footwear.

Julia was wearing his beret.

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When his eyes finally met hers, she watched him swallow hard.

She pouted at him provocatively and removed her hat, tossing it at him. After he threw it aside, she walked slowly, very slowly, to the bed.

“I really like my Christmas present, Professor.”

Gabriel gulped, at a loss for words.

“Have you seen the back?” She pivoted her hips, watching him

over her shoulder.

He reached out a finger to touch the laces that tied the cor-

set, dragging his hand down to the panties that cut across her pert backside.

“Enough teasing, Miss Mitchell. Come here.” He pulled her to him, bringing their mouths together in a forceful kiss.

“I’m going to take my time unwrapping my gift — with the excep-

tion of the shoes. I hope for your sake they’re comfortable.”

After ten minutes of knocking on the door, the room service

waiter had to take their dinner back to the kitchen and await further instructions.

The instructions never came.

P

Long after midnight, beautiful music hung in the air from Ga-

briel’s new playlist, including songs by Sarah McLachlan, Sting, and Matthew Barber. Julia was lying on her stomach amidst a tangle of

linen sheets, drowsy and satisfied. Her back was exposed down to

the two dimples that rested above the curve of her backside.

Gabriel had artful y placed part of the sheet over her bottom

and retrieved his camera. He stood by the bed, snapping picture after picture until she yawned and stretched, like a sleepy cat.

“You’re exquisite,” he said, placing the camera to one side so he

could sit by her.

She looked up with wide, happy eyes as he began running his

long fingers down her spine, then gave a rueful smile. “When you

love something, you don’t see its flaws.”

“That’s true, I suppose. But you’re beautiful.”

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She shifted so she could see him better, hugging her arms around

a pillow. “Love makes things beautiful.”

A familiar tightness spread across Gabriel’s lips. His hand stilled on her lower back, just over the dimples.

She read the unspoken question in his eyes. “Yes, Gabriel, you’re

beautiful to me. The more I know you, the more I see who you really are and the more beautiful you become.”

He kissed her, the light, appreciative kiss of a teenage suitor, and ran his fingers through her long, brown hair. “Thank you. You’re

hungry, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

He looked over at the door. “I think we missed our dinner because

we were feasting on — ah — other things.”

“And what a feast it was, Professor. At least there’s a fruit basket.”

She sat up, wrapping the sheet around her torso, while he walked

over to the large basket that was sitting on the coffee table. He found a Swiss army knife in the kitchenette, made an adjustment to the

music, and brought a mango with him to bed.

“I needed to match the song to the fruit,” he said, his blue eyes

sparkling. “Now lie back.”

She felt her heart rate begin to increase.

“You don’t need this.” Boldly, he pulled the sheet away. Now they

were both naked.

“Who’s singing?”

“Bruce Cockburn.”

He began cutting the mango slowly, his eyes exploring Julia’s body.

She gave him a quizzical look. “Naked lunch?”

“More like a naked midnight snack.”

With deft fingers he cut a small slice of the fruit, juice dripping from his hands and onto her abdomen. She arched an eyebrow.

“Hmmm.” He peered at the juice with an impish expression. “I’ll

have to take care of that.”

She opened her mouth as he leaned forward to feed her. “You

have a feeding fetish,” she said, licking her lips and angling for more.

He bowed before her in obeisance, his tongue snaking out to

capture the liquid from her stomach. “Pardon?” he asked.

Julia groaned incoherently.

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“It isn’t a fetish so much as an act that gives me joy. I like to care for you, and there’s something sensual about sharing food with a

lover.” He eschewed her lips to kiss her shoulder, the tip of his tongue tasting her skin. Withdrawing, he cut another slice of fruit. A few droplets fell like liquid sunshine on her left breast.

“Damn. Forgive my mess.”

He ran a sticky hand up and down her ribs, tantalizing one of

his favorite erogenous zones, before placing his lips to her chest.

“You’re killing me,” she managed as his wet mouth found her

nipple.

“I seem to recall saying that to you once. And you promised it

would be a sweet death.”