Lead Me Gently Home


"A Surprise Visit, A Special Request"

(We now go back two months --- To the beginning of a near-breakup. But don't be fooled by the seemingly calm tone of this chapter -- Things will soon change for our time-traveling lovers)

{Uh...the last few lines get a little steamy -- but just a little. Under 16s , please proceed with caution} ;)

Yippee! Friday at last!

I thought I'd never see this week end. Friday didn't come too soon for me, and I HAD to start my students on a major project, one that demanded much time and attention. It was to be a fun project; but, because of the detailed, step-by-step work involved, I simply could not take an extended leave-of-absence.

I wasn't terribly ill, but I'd been fighting fatigue, headaches, and irritability ever since Christmas. I had made up my mind to finally get a complete physical, and find out what was wrong with me. Of course, in the back of my mind, I just chalked all my physical ailments to overwork and too much pleasure.

After all, I insisted on finishing that exposé detailing the conspiracy against Claude Frollo. He was extremely proud of that work; then, he was even more pleased when my friends and I put on that special entertainment at the Feast of Fools. Then Claude visits me...in my time...during a snowstorm...just to check up on me...

It had been nearly two weeks since I'd seen Claude, when he stayed the weekend with me, after that snowstorm. Well..it did get mighty cold, and just having his warm body sharing my bed...And we generated a LOT of heat....

I grinned as I packed a few things to take home. Just grade these essays, go over the reading for Monday, and be done! I also needed to talk to Ralph, my department head, if I intended to take a few days off. That, of course, would all depend on the results of all those tests. All I could do, as I put on my coat, was to raise my eyes heavenward, and pray, "Please, whatever it is, I can get through it. I can deal with it. Please, Lord...Be with me when I get the news...whether it's good or bad."

A comforting, warm feeling came over me. I felt at peace. See? There's nothing to worry about...just a lot of stress...nothing a little relaxation can't cure...Don't worry yourself so...Just as Momma always says..."Leave It There".

Now, I wasn't expecting a visitor, much less this one. But there he came, strolling through the door. Claude Frollo!

"Hey, Claude!", I greeted, dropping my things onto the floor. I immediately embraced him, kissed him. He smiled and greeted me in like manner. Mmm...can this man kiss!

"And a warm 'hello' to you, Danisha dearest", Claude replied. He was dressed in an interesting mixture of 15th Century chic and 20th Century funk: Tight black leather jeans, a slinky, body-hugging, purple silk shirt, a regally appointed black leather vest, that sweeping cloak, the familar hat. And he had on those black boots I bought him for his last birthday. It all fitted his tall, gracefully slender form perfectly.

"Sugarbritches, you look too fine!"

Claude laughed, kissed me again, then produced a thick packet. I was so surprised with seeing him again, that I nearly forgot that he had brought something. Claude smiled as he handed me the packet. When I opened it, I recognized the contents right away. It was a manuscript that Claude told me he was working on, something about early medieval history.

"Why is it", began Claude laughingly, "that whenever I want something done, I turn to you."

"Oh, sugar. I have absolutely no idea." I laughed, then sat down at a student desk, and began flipping through the pages. It was a lengthy work, and every page glowing in Claude's neat French Gothic, as though it was written with his life's blood. "Claude?", I asked, "What does this have to do with me?"

Claude then explained that the work was, "A personal reflection of life in my time." He went on, explaining that, perhaps, the medieval mindset may not fully grasp the content. "I would like this published in the 20th Century, just to gauge reaction. I have a feeling the openmindedness of your time would appreciate the...er...events depicted."

I looked at him, then back at the manuscript. "Sort of a 'You Are There' work, honey?" Claude smiled again, replied, "I guess you can call it that", then slid into the seat in front of mine.
"Amazing", I said, while scanning every page, "that you found time to write all this." My eyes began to glaze over, when I realized that every word was written in French!
"Uh...Claude? Honey, this is all in French. You damn well know my French is rusty." Claude sighed, leaned over to kiss me, then said, "I'm aware of your..." He paused to emit one of his deep, sexy chuckles, a sound that's music to my ears. "...limited expertise, but I thought if you knew of a publisher, perhaps a translator..." He paused again to kiss me. It's no use refusing...He knows to push ALL the right buttons...Kissing me like that...looking at me like that...talking like that...

"Claude", I began, finally closing the manuscript, "There is one person in this very building who could help on the translation."
"Really? That's wonderful, darling."

I then said, with firm conviction, "Linda Davis."

Claude raised an eyebrow at the mention. "Linda Who?"

"Linda Davis. She's one of our Deans; she was a French teacher over at Arlington. I met her when I did my student teaching." I got up, walked to the back closet, and unlocked the door. I then unlocked a small file cabinet I kept in the closet. I immediately deposited the manuscript into the drawer, then locked both drawer and closet.
"Linda spent two years in France, as an ESL -- English As A Second Language -- teacher. Maybe she can help; since, after all, she owes me a couple of favors."

Claude seemed relieved, yet apprehensive, all the same. "But what if she can't? My dear Nisha, it's important that this work sees print, and as soon as possible."
I walked over to him, embraced his long, slender body, and kissed his sweet lips. "Baby, don't worry! I'm sure Linda isn't too busy." I then snapped my fingers. "Sandy!"

"And who is this?", Claude asked, as he returned my embrace, and nuzzled my neck.

"Sandy Fields, head of the foreign language department at Arlington. She teaches French and Spanish. I can always ask." I giggled, because the sensation of Claude's breath and nose on my neck was rather ticklish.

"Claude! Not here! What if someone walks in?"

"Danisha, my love", he replied laughingly. "It's after hours, isn't it? Nearly three-thirty, according to your clock." Claude continued to caress my face and neck, his tongue gently licking my earlobes. "Mmm...school has been out for how long? An hour?" He kept kissing me, then guided me to a table in the back of my room.

"But Claude", I half-heartedly protested. "Honey, let's go home...this is not the place." I felt myself being bent backwards over the table. Claude's lips locked onto mine; his hands firmly gripped my body.


What the hell...everyone's gone home...the janitor's already been here...What's an hour? This is too kinky....

In that half-lit room, Claude and I laid on top of that table, locked in a tender embrace. I felt that twinge of desire deep inside me; but, somehow, I wanted to move this little encounter somewhere more private --- like home!

Suddenly, from the hall outside my open door, I heard a child's voice. I think Claude heard it, but he wasn't about to stop what he was doing. "Claude!", I frantically whispered, "I hear kids outside! We have to stop this."

Claude's voice was sweet and seductive. "My love, whoever it is will go away. Now..." He kissed me intensely...

At that moment, I heard another, more familar, voice emanating from outside my door. "Come back here, Tamara!"

Now that same voice was INSIDE the room, and emited a very audible, "Uh...Excuse you?"

Claude's eyes registered embarassed surprise; he finally released me. We both stared at the petite figure standing before us.

"Dang, Nisha! You can't wait 'til you get home? I know he's fine, but....Girlfriend, I've got kids out here!" She then laughed, then said, "And I just know Tamara will have all KINDS of questions."

Chapter 3!

©Copyright FrolloFreak FSM #14, 1998

Fanfic Collection #1
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