But tonight would not be one of those nights, because just as Mr. Livshitz was about to blow, a noise made him come to a stop. It was an email alert on his phone, which he would normally ignore, but something in the moment told him to look. It was from Caroline - “Can we talk tomorrow after school.” No subject. No hello. No question mark, either. Instead, only a request.Like a new character introduced in the middle of a TV show’s season, this email opened up a whole new world of possibilities for Mr. Livshitz to exist in as he stroked harder and harder, faster and faster, considering all of the things that may be said in this meeting, but more importantly, what may be done. He could feel himself getting closer, and closer, imagining himself lying back on his desk, Caroline riding him as if their lives depended on it.He needed her. He wanted her. He would have her.He could feel the orgasm rise within him, the cum leap out of his thick, pulsating cock, only for a KNOCK to interrupt one. I suddenly felt out of control, this whole conversation upsetting my balance. I’d never had anyone else affect me this way, but then again, I’d never had someone look at me this intensely, much less drop everything to focus on me. ‘This is your show and you’re an important man. The important man. I’m just a visitor.’ ‘Because it feels right,’ he said with a grin. ‘I don’t suppose you’d consider modeling for me?’ ‘What? I…’ This was so confusing, I felt flummoxed. With a dozen or so words, this man made me feel more like a confused child than my mother’s hour-long tantrums ever had. ‘Wait,’ he said, his fingers covering my lips. It was like a spark jumped between us. ‘Let’s talk about it over coffee. I know a little place nearby that makes the most fabulous latte.’ ‘But the show,’ I protested weakly. ‘You’re the artist, the star, the man everyone here wants to meet. You can’t just leave!’ ‘It’s my show,’ he said, his smile blinding, ‘and that means I can do as I damned well please.’.
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