Archive of Our Own ^beta

Laura had committed plenty of outrageous acts in her life. She had gotten a tattoo on a dare back in university. Jumped off the 12th Street Caprica City Bridge on Haloa into the ice depths for the Polar Plunge. Maintained a longstanding affair with the President of the Twelve Colonies. She had even split the small rag-tag fleet of the last survivors of humanity and tried to steal an election to stop the inevitable disaster of Gaius Baltar.

Yet none of it felt nearly as absurd or ludicrous as what she was about to do now. A tremor of anticipation fluttered in her stomach, and she pressed a hand against her abdomen to steady it, realizing she was stepping into uncharted but not entirely unwelcome territory.

But, Laura wasn’t exactly a stranger to sex, she thought as she stood, eyeing her reflection in the cramped bathroom mirror, wearing only lacy black underwear, and feeling a jittery excitement. After all, the nature of her past affair with Richard had been a learning lesson unto itself. Still, the flickering fluorescent light cast a sallow hue over her skin, making her feel more self-conscious than usual. With a resigned sigh, she reached back and swept her hair into a loose twist, clipping it up so it rested neatly off her neck. The cool, recycled air on her bare shoulders only amplified the flurry of nerves dancing in her chest.

But roleplay? The idea unsettled her more than she wanted to admit. When Bill first suggested it, she’d nearly bolted for the hills. Honestly, she might have preferred he propose locking her in the brig —again—this time for fun rather than that absurd request he’d made one night after a grueling budgeting session. Yet, despite her reservations, her pulse quickened at the thought.

That night, Laura had felt a swift rush of arousal flood her veins with one look at Bill’s earnest expression. His wide, mesmerizing blue eyes held the quiet intensity she’d seen in him a hundred times before, but never quite like this. At that moment, she knew she would give Bill anything he asked. No matter how outlandish the request.

Even if that meant she would break out the thigh-high stockings and ruler. But for only him.

Laura perched on the edge of the closed toilet lid and carefully unrolled the sheer black stockings up her legs until they stopped midway along her thighs. Billy had procured the intimate items from the black market for her, and remembering their conversation, she couldn’t help but cringe. Gods help her, when he had cheerfully suggested, “Oh, you should probably pick up a garter too if you’re getting thigh-highs.” It was one of the most awkward exchanges she’d had in months, leaving her both grateful for his help and mortified that he knew such details.

With a wry grimace, Laura reached for the glossy black bands draped on the porcelain sink, mentally noting that after this escapade, she would owe the boy big time.

How Billy had come to know that garters were essential was a question she didn’t want answered. Some things were better left unexplored.

The fabric glided against her skin, silky and smooth, as she eased the stockings higher on her thighs. When she straightened and caught sight of her reflection in the mirror, Laura had to admit Billy had been right. The garters were a perfect touch. They added a daring edge she hadn’t anticipated, sending a subtle jolt of confidence coursing through her veins.

Blowing out a breath, she slid on the tightest, shortest pencil skirt she owned, tugging the zipper closed. The snug fit hugged her curvy hips, and her pulse thrummed with a blend of self-consciousness and bravado. She retrieved her crisp white blouse from the hanger behind the door, slipping her arms into the sleeves and fastening the buttons slowly. At first, she left the top two buttons undone, then paused before releasing a third, revealing more cleavage than she typically dares. Her cheeks warmed, but she ignored the nerves pounding in her chest.

For a fleeting moment, she considered tying the shirt’s tails to expose her midriff, giggling at the thought. But that would be an entirely different roleplay scenario. That would be much too bold, and besides, Bill didn’t seem like the schoolgirl fetish type. No, his preference was clearly for the buttoned-up, in-charge look.

Quickly, Laura slipped her feet into the tallest black stilettos she could find. The added height made her legs feel miles long, and she could already imagine the ravenous look on Bill’s face when he saw them.

Laura allowed a slow smile to curve her lips and examined her reflection in the foggy bathroom mirror. She almost didn’t recognize the sultry woman staring back. After battling cancer, she’d feared her body would never regain its soft curves or its former vitality. Yet, in the months since her miraculous recovery, color had returned to her cheeks, her auburn hair shone once again, and her figure had blossomed in all the right places.

Still, there was one final missing touch.

She reached for one of her most cherished post-apocalyptic luxuries: a small, gold tube of lipstick. Carefully unscrewing the cap, she revealed a bold red bullet of color. Typically, Laura applied this precious cosmetic sparingly, with just enough product to give her lips a hint of color on ordinary days. ‘Waste not’ was her usual motto. Especially when every item was a rarity. But today demanded a fearless statement her usual conservative subtlety would not achieve.

One stroke, then another. She smoothed the crimson color across her lips until they gleamed a deep, seductive scarlet. Feeling satisfied, Laura replaced the cap on the golden tube and laid it down on the counter.

She stole one final glance in the mirror, nodding happily.  Then, with a deft hand, she adjusted her glasses on her nose and tucked an errant lock of hair back into place before stepping out of the bathroom.

Once in her office, Laura snatched a long wooden ruler she’d unearthed a few days ago from a dusty corner of her desk. Hoisting herself up on the desk’s edge, she crossed her legs and exhaled slowly, mentally rehearsing the scene to come. Thankfully, Billy had been given explicit instructions: no one was to interrupt her meeting with Bill unless the Cylons were literally blowing up the fleet.

And she waited.

With each passing second, Laura’s impatience grew. She tapped the ruler restlessly against her hand. Each soft thwack sounded loud in the otherwise silent office. A glance at the clock confirmed Bill would arrive soon, and she fought off a wave of self-consciousness, choosing instead to channel the confidence her new attire provided.

This is ridiculous, she thought briefly, but I made Bill a promise to try... Drawing in a steady breath, she reminded herself that confidence was half the battle.

After what felt like an eternity, the curtain parted to reveal Bill. In place of his usual military uniform, he wore plain black slacks and a little blue polo with the collar popped. Where had he even found that? She had explored his closet often enough to know he owned nothing of the sort.

But as he crossed the room, Laura couldn’t help but notice how the snug fabric stretched across his broad chest. Just the hint of his firm muscles beneath the blue cotton filled her with amusement and an unexpected heat in her stomach.

The moment Bill entered her office, Laura’s entire presence changed. Any lingering hesitations faded away instantly. She straightened her back and lifted her chin, allowing her eyes to harden. Even the grip on the ruler she held in her hands tightened. It wasn’t exactly a conscious change, but the shift infused Laura with a confidence she had lacked earlier.

“You’re late again, Mr. Adama,” Laura barked. Her own boldness caught her off guard as she brought the ruler down sharply against her palm, resulting in a loud crack that echoed off the bulkheads. “That’s the third time this week,” she added, letting her gaze linger on him over the rim of her glasses just a second longer than was strictly necessary.

To Bill’s credit, he managed to hide the flash of shock, and something warmer, something resembling arousal, flickered across his face. Instead, his shoulders sagged in an exaggerated show of contrition, and he bowed his head humbly. “Sorry, Ms. Roslin…” he murmured, keeping his eyes cast downward as though genuinely chastened.

Laura pushed herself off the edge of the desk quickly. She stood tall in her heels before him and shook her head in disapproval at Bill.  “I am so disappointed in you, Mr. Adama. You used to be such a good student. What happened?”

“I don’t know…” Bill’s gaze flicked upward, a hint of a smirk edging his lips. “Maybe I’m just a bad boy.”

Laura felt a dangerous undercurrent of arousal flow through her. Rather than give in to her wants and needs, she steeled herself, forcing her gaze to turn stony. Lifting the ruler, she slid one end beneath Bill’s chin, compelling him to look her straight in the eyes as she said, “Well, maybe I need to teach you a lesson.” She yanked the ruler away and smacked the wooden desk. Slam.  “On your knees, student.”

Bill’s eyes went wide, surprise and a flicker of excitement warring in his gaze. “Miss Roslin… What do you mean? What kind of lesson do you have in mind?”

“Stop asking stupid questions and get on your knees, Mr. Adama,” Laura commanded, grasping the ruler once more and striking his shoulder. Hard.

Bill nodded and sank slowly to his knees, a gesture so uncharacteristic that Laura almost faltered. This was the man she considered her partner in everything: in love, in life, and in leadership.  Now, he knelt before her, entirely subservient, awaiting her every command. Only the pure ravenous hunger shimmering in Bill’s cobalt blue eyes stayed her hand as he waited patiently for instruction.

“I’m going to teach you how to treat a woman properly, Mr. Adama.”

Peering down at him over the rim of her glasses, she lifted a hand to her hair, tugging it free from the claw-clip and casting the plastic aside, forgotten. She gave her head a quick shake, letting the auburn waves spill across her shoulders in a wild cascade. Bill’s breath seemed to hitch, transfixed by the sight.

“You are going to want to start with the basics. Worship every inch of me.”

“Ye-Yes, Ms. Roslin,” Bill breathed, stumbling over the first word.

Laura’s pulse thudded as his broad hands began a slow ascent along her stocking-clad legs. Each measured caress sent molten ripples of heat coursing through her. He started at her ankles, easing over the gentle curves of her calves. Deliberately avoiding the sensitive spot behind her knees, he reached her thighs at last, where the little lace garters hugged her skin. Looking up with half-mast eyes, he brushed the delicate fabric with his fingertips.

“Miss Roslin,” he murmured, “what would you like me to do with these?”

“Take them off. That’s your first test.”

“Right away,” he agreed softly.

Bill rolled the right garter down the length of her thigh, easing it past her knee and calf. Reaching the stiletto heel, he hesitated, letting his fingertips trace the sleek curve of the shoe, then slipped the lace free. Dropping it to the floor, his hand drifted back toward the stiletto, clearly intent on removing it. But Laura couldn’t have that. Could she?

With a tsk of her tongue, Laura yanked her leg out of Bill’s grasp. She lifted her leg and placed the heeled foot to his chest, forcing him to look upward and meet her hard look.

“Did I ask you to remove my heels?” she demanded.

When Bill exhaled sharply, Laura felt a rush of warm breath graze her skin, where her heel pressed against his chest.

“No… sorry, Miss Roslin.”

“Leave them on and get back to work,” she said flatly.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Bill replied in a subdued voice.

As Laura lowered her foot, he repeated his delicate work on her other leg. With an agonizing slowness, he rolled down the second garter, letting his fingertips glide over the silky material as though he yearned to capture every fleeting sensation. Deep inside, Laura was certain he did.

While Bill worked, Laura allowed her eyes to flutter closed, focusing on the exquisite friction of the lace gliding along her skin. The electric warmth of his palms overshadowed every stray thought, every stray worry, spurring a slow, sensual ache in the pit of her stomach. Each gentle brush of his fingertips sent a wave of wet, heady arousal that pooled between her thighs, which was impossible to ignore and even harder to resist.

Truth be told, she didn’t want to resist it. In fact, she craved it. She yearned for every intoxicating surge of pleasure and power, for each spark of shared hunger that bound them in this moment.

Once the second garter slipped free, Laura lifted her gaze to meet Bill’s impatient eyes. “Good boy, Mr. Adama…” she murmured, her tone soft yet commanding. “Next, you’ll remove my underwear.”

Bill sputtered. “Not the stockings and shoes? Or skirt?”

“No, we’ll keep those on. For now...”

She lifted the ruler still clutched in her hand, letting its cool edge trace a slow line beneath Bill’s chin.

“I like the silk against my skin— I enjoy the leverage these heels give me. After all, you do want what your teacher wants. Don’t you?”

“Of course, Ma’am,” Bill answered too eagerly. His enthusiasm cracked the strict mask Laura wore, coaxing a faint smile to her lips in spite of herself.

“Good boy,” Laura praised, her voice tight, controlled.  “Get to work.”

Bill nodded obediently, leaning in. His large hands skimmed across the smooth fabric of Laura’s pencil skirt. A soft gasp escaped her lips as his touch dipped just beyond the soft curve of her stomach. Throwing back her head, her eyes fluttered closed in sudden unguarded pleasure while the gentle slide of his fingers sent a jolt of electric warmth beneath the skirt.

Emboldened, Bill started to slide her skirt higher, his eagerness edging on roughness. Laura’s eyes snapped open, and she glared down at him.

“Watch the wrinkles, Mr. Adama,” she admonished coolly, her voice underpinned by a strict composure that belied the heat stirring in her core.

Bill’s momentary look of shock was priceless, but he simply gave a deferential nod and resumed lifting the skirt. More carefully this time, inch by inch, he exposed the black lacy thong beneath. Damp with the unmistakable evidence of Laura’s desire, the sight caused Bill’s breath to catch. But despite Bill’s obvious enticing captivation, Laura remained poised, all too aware of her own quickening pulse.

Laura had nearly forgotten she’d tucked this particular thong away in a hidden corner of her luggage months ago, only rediscovering it during a recent spurt of 'Ostara cleaning.' She smothered a flicker of self-consciousness as Bill’s eyes lingered on the delicate fabric perched on her hips. But, the blush on her cheeks betrayed her delight. Yes, she thought, keeping it secret for this moment had been absolutely worth it.

“Ms. Roslin!” Bill exclaimed, his voice full of mock scandal. “What kind of teacher keeps those in her wardrobe?”

“The very best kind, Mr. Adama. You just weren’t a good enough student before to earn a glimpse.”

“Oh boy. School does have its perks…” Bill murmured with a sly grin. He leaned in, exhaling a gentle breath against the sensitive juncture of Laura’s thighs, drawing an involuntary shiver from her that seemed to ripple all the way up her spine.

“Keep this up, and you might earn a peek at the matching bra.” Her voice dropped an octave. “Now, stop dawdling and get back to work.”

“Yes, Ma’am!” Bill said, peeling the garment away from her hips carefully with his fingers, then pushing it down the length of her legs.
With the thong finally pooled at her ankles, Laura flicked it aside with a graceful kick of her stiletto. Its moment of importance gone, she barely spared it a glance, at least until the dust settled on this particular lesson.

But for the next one…

Her heart hammered in her chest, but she refused to display the true extent to which her standing there before a kneeling Bill, in her thigh-high stockings and heels with her skirt pushed up over her hips, made her feel. She wouldn’t let him see how weak her knees felt at being fully on display before him like this. After all, composure was everything right now.

Instead, she took the ruler and slapped it against her thigh, gaining his attention. Reaching out, Laura yanked on Bill’s hair, pulling him closer to her center, where her thighs trembled with desire. “Do your best work. Show me what you can do.”

Bill licked his lips. His eyes darkened as raw desire overtook him, and he leaned forward until his lips pressed against the apex of her thighs. Instinctively, Laura widened her stance, spreading her legs to allow him more room to work. Her hands tightened on the strands of his hair, begging him to get to work. His tongue hesitantly swiped once, then twice, before he found his rhythm. He devoured her clit with all the enthusiasm of a starved man devouring a forbidden feast.

At last, Laura abandoned all restraint. Her loud moans bounced off the bulkheads as each hot, wet caress of his mouth ignited fresh jolts of ecstasy. He worked faster and faster, switching between swirling circles over her clit and thrusting deeper, propelling her toward a dizzying peak. The ascent happened so quickly that she barely had registered her own ragged breaths before she tumbled headlong into climax. Her heart slammed in her ears, and the world fell away, her body trembling against his mouth as wave after wave of pleasure consumed her.

Just when she thought she was drifting down from the heights of release, Bill flattened his tongue against her clit and pressed with sudden force, sending her spiraling into another explosive peak. The sensation struck like a Viper colliding mid-flight with a Raider, hard and fast, shattering her composure entirely. Her tight grip on the ruler finally faltered. It clattered onto the floor as her world fractured into a second blinding climax.

After what felt like the length of a full school day. Bill finally pulled his mouth away and Laura’s heart eventually began to settle. The sweat began to cool on her brow as the last hint of her orgasm faded away. She opened her eyes and met Bill’s expectant gaze. Giving him a lazy, half smile, she said, “A+, Mr. Adama.”

“I did a good job?” Bill asked earnestly.

Laura’s smirk deepened as she noted the glistening evidence of her arousal on his chin. She lifted a brow, half-amused, half-aroused.
“Absolutely. Now, let's see how you do on the extra credit,” Laura teased, giving him a brief nod. She gestured for him to stand.

Bill rose before her, and Laura straightened, tossing her hair over her shoulder. One by one, she unbuttoned the remaining buttons on her crisp white shirt until it hung loosely around her frame. Her lacy black bra just barely peeked out beneath.

Bill eased Laura’s blouse from her shoulders, letting it drift to the floor, forgotten. A smooth tug at her zipper sent her pencil skirt pooling around her ankles. She kicked it clear across the room with a quick flick of her foot.

Briefly, Laura hoped she wouldn’t need to explain to her aide how her favorite pencil skirt had acquired so many wrinkles after her meeting with the Admiral. She would be absolutely mortified. 

In other circumstances, Laura might have shivered from Colonial One’s air conditioning standing there in only her bra and stockings, but the heat from Bill’s gaze kept her warm.

He stepped closer until every inch of her was pressed against him. Deftly, he reached around to unhook her bra and slide it off. Bill wasted no time once her breasts were exposed. After all, this was his extra credit, and she expected nothing less but perfection from her best student. Between his nimble fingers, he took both of her nipples, which had hardened into little stiff pebbles, and gave them a firm tweak that sent sparks dancing through Laura’s veins.

Already, Laura felt a rush of wet arousal begin to pool low in her belly again. But Bill did not relent in his attention, allowing her no moment of relief. Instead, he dipped his head to capture a single nipple between his lips, bathing it in the sweet heat of his mouth and swirling the tip of his tongue around the peak. Laura tangled her fingers into his hair and urged him on as he lavished equal attention upon her other breast. Each suck, each delightful swirl of his tongue sent electric jolts of pleasure straight through her to her center.

Laura, already breathless from his attention and drenched with the desire to feel every inch of Bill’s body, realized this wouldn’t do. While she was nearly naked, he was still fully clothed. Gently, she pushed him away, forcing him to release her breast with a soft, audible “plop.” Still panting, she managed a mock-scolding look and teased, “Why, Mr. Adama, it seems you’re out of your school uniform.”

Bill’s hands shot up to stifle a startled moan as her fingers glided over his snug blue shirt, marveling at how firm Bill’s muscles felt beneath her fingertips. This was a man who could go ten rounds in a boxing ring and emerge relatively unscathed, after all. Laura felt a surge of admiration and lust as her fingertips traced each taut plane beneath the fabric. He really was a fine specimen of a man...

“I apologize, Ms. Roslin! Please don’t dock my grade!” Bill cried.

“In that case, Sir, my patience is wearing dangerously thin,” Laura purred, letting a manicured fingernail trace a lazy circle over his shirt where his nipple lay beneath. “You’d best start undressing.”

Before Laura could even blink, Bill yanked off his shirt and flung it into a corner. His hands moved to unbuckle the belt holding his pants in place, drawing Laura’s attention to his erection straining futilely against the fabric, tenting it impressively. “Wait,” she ordered. She reached out and stilled his movements. “You did earn a gold star, after all…” Laura’s pulse throbbed in her ears as her eyes remained riveted to the impressive bulge.

“A+ and everything, Miss.”

Laura unbuckled the belt and pulled it out through his slack’s belt loops in one smooth motion. Grinning, she let it clatter to the floor and then cupped Bill through his slacks, enjoying how he bucked instinctively at her touch. “Eager boy,” she murmured, squeezing him gently. Bill moaned loudly and bucked again wildly. “Easy, you’ll get your reward soon. Just listen to your teacher. She knows best. Doesn’t she?”

Bill offered a hasty nod, staying silent as Laura unzipped his slacks and slid her hand beneath the waistband of his boxers. She found his erection hot and rigid in her grip. It twitched excitedly each time her fingers glided along its length. A fresh wave of arousal welled up in her core at his muffled whimpers. Oh. She couldn’t wait to have him inside her.

With a sudden burst of impatience, Laura pulled her hand away and tugged down Bill’s pants and boxers in one fluid motion, liberating his erection from the last barrier of fabric. Bill kicked off his boots and shoved the tangled clothes aside, allowing Laura a silent moment to take him in, fully bared, fully aroused. So, so fully aroused and erect. She ran her tongue across her lips, and a tremor of anticipation licked up her spine.

“Come here, Mr. Adama,” she commanded. “Time for you to sit at that desk while I show you how to really frak.”

“Ye-Yes, Ma’am…”

Taking him firmly by the hand, she guided him across the room until his hips met the desk’s edge. “Sit,” she ordered and gave him a forceful shove that landed him on top of the polished surface with a light thud. “Good boy…” she praised, with a sly satisfaction curling her lips.

“Now what, Miss?” Bill breathed.

He stretched out to tug her closer, a similar impatience brimming in his blue, almost black eyes. His fingers curled at the edge of her arm as though he couldn’t stand another second without her lessons.

Laura knew she certainly couldn’t.

“Now, it’s time for your final exam,” Laura purred.

Bracing her stiletto heels against the desk for leverage, she climbed onto Bill’s lap and draped her legs around him. For a fleeting second, she paused, her hips flush against his stiff erection while his hands gripped her waist, his fingertips practically melting into her skin, before she rose just enough to position herself. Then she drove down, impaling herself fully onto his length. All the way down to the hilt. A sharp thrill radiated through her as the desk creaked beneath them dangerously.

Lords.

Bill moaned so loudly in her ear that Laura only just managed to stifle her own cry by pressing a hand to her mouth. Her thighs clenched around his hips as a surge of pleasure slammed through her, rattling every nerve ending.

He filled her completely. Each impressive inch –and there were plenty of them—sent an almost electric warmth through her core. Laura took a heartbeat to adjust, savoring the way he stretched her pleasantly before she began to ride him. What began as a slow, steady rock quickly escalated into a more frantic bounce. Bill let out a ragged exhale, his hands settling at her waist to guide each thrust.

Abandoning every pretense of playful instruction, Laura completely gave herself over to the frantic rhythm. She pressed her hands against the firm muscles of Bill’s chest to keep her from toppling over. She rode him hard, meeting Bill’s upward thrusts as papers on her desk fluttered to the floor. Their bodies connected almost violently, and a wet slapping sound filled the room as each thrust ratcheted up her excitement with punishing speed. Every snap of her hips brought her closer to the tight coil of release that threatened to break her apart.

From how Bill’s pace quickly became erratic, completely unsteady, and ragged, Laura knew he was moments away from losing control. Then his hand skimmed over her hip, finding its way to where their bodies joined. He began circling her clit with a devastating precision she had never taught him. A cry strangled in her throat.

What an excellent display of classroom skills…

Husky and breathless, she leaned in to purr, “I think you’ve passed this class, Mr. Adama.”

Laura shattered. Ecstasy flowed to the very ends of her nerves while she felt Bill shudder beneath her, joining her as they came together. For one endless moment, she couldn’t tell where she ended and he began. She no longer knew who was the teacher and who was the student, or who was the Admiral and who was the President. All she was honestly sure about was the indescribable way it felt as they came together.

And in that fleeting eternity, she never wanted it to end.

But all good things come to an end, after all.

As the last pulses of her climax faded, Laura’s breathing turned ragged and uneven. Suddenly feeling drained and boneless, she let her head drop upon Bill’s firm shoulder. She inhaled deeply, taking in the comforting salty scent of sweat and the heavy musk that was so uniquely Bill. That familiar scent steadied her. It helped her reconnect with where the floor ended and the ceiling began, even as her limbs still trembled with residual pleasure.

Beneath her palms, Bill’s chest rose and fell in hard, uneven breaths, and Laura couldn’t help but let a triumphant smile tug at her lips. Clearly, she’d done something right, she mused with a fresh rush of pride.

Drawing back, Laura peered down at Bill over the rim of her glasses while she struggled to maintain a stern expression despite the mischievous sparkle in her eyes. Instead, she caught his rapt, almost dazed expression and let a slow smirk form.

“I think I can pass you now, Mr. Adama,” she teased, her voice still shaky from the remnants of her bliss.

“But what if I want to retake the class, Ms. Roslin?”

Laura eased back, resting on his thighs after finally lifting herself off of Bill’s lap, and sighed at the sudden loss of him within her.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s not good to repeat a class?” she quipped. “What kind of teacher would I be if I failed you after such a stellar performance? Besides, there’s a whole new curriculum waiting for you in your next class.”

Bill’s grin stretched wide, lighting his features with fresh excitement. “My next class?”

“That’s right, Mr. Adama,” Laura replied. She slid off his lap and bent low, obscenely low, to retrieve the long-forgotten ruler from the floor. “Just because you passed this class doesn’t mean you’re ready to graduate.”

Laura straightened, then brought the ruler down onto the desk with a crisp thwack. The ruler vibrated in her grip, and she relished the new surge of self-assurance coursing through her bloodstream at the feel of it. At the start, she had felt so anxious about adopting the role of a ‘dirty teacher’. It had felt so brazen, so forbidden, so unlike herself. She honestly hadn’t been sure she could pull it off convincingly.

Laura realized as she towered over Bill, who remained propped up on the desk gazing at her with his almost puppy-dog-like eyes full of something akin to reverence, that this single lesson hadn’t been enough. Not nearly enough.

She felt the euphoria of conquest and confidence thrumming in her veins, and she knew with a jolt of excitement that it was addictive. She was already addicted to the rush of confidence this little roleplaying venture had inspired within her. It was like an erotic drug. She found herself craving another chance to chase that rush, to savor the bold power she had only just begun to wield. She needed to do this again. Soon.

Laura flashed Bill a lingering smile.

“Next lesson: the G-spot,” she said, arching an eyebrow in challenge. She winked, leaning closer. “Tell me, Mr. Adama, ever make a woman squirt?”

Bill grinned back, panting heavily again.

“I’ll be your most attentive student ever, Miss Roslin,” he promised.

“Good boy.”