A very dedicated student

Carolina shifted in her seat and crossed her legs. A little fluttering tightness ran through her. She had sat through years of those lessons imagining what it would feel like to lie beneath Bubi's hands, to hear that steady voice speak only to her, and now the older woman was across the table, flesh and blood, without a whiteboard between them. Bubi still smelled faintly of chalk and soft wool, though tonight her collar was open. Carolina reached for her wine glass, steadied the tremor at her fingertips, and noticed the rise and fall of Bubi's chest under silk. Her former teacher leaned closer, speaking in the low tone reserved for private conversations. Carolina tipped forward too, slow enough for Bubi to see the intention. When their knees brushed, neither pulled away. The silence between words thickened, and Bubi slid one palm over the table's edge, found Carolina's knee beneath the cloth, squeezed once with calm possession. Heat spread up Carolina's thigh at that simple pressure, forcing her to hold her breath before she answered the question already forming on Bubi's lips.