12; who made the grade.
Who Made The Grade.
yellow light. (stoplight system.)
concerning: Victoria Winters, Roger Collins.
922. words; complete. original post date: 09-09-09.
It's almost midnight by the time that Vicki tiptoes her way into the study after a quick shower, a vinyl record and a folder full of papers under her arm. Quietly, she closes the door and sets the papers on the desk, not bothering to glance around for the light switch. There's a lamp on the desk; she can use that when she needs it. For now, she knows her way around the study like the back of her hand. Vicki knows she's technically not supposed to be in here without permission; official, personal documents lay in the drawers and whatnot, but it's not as though she's snooping. But it's late. Missus Stoddard and Carolyn have gone to bed, and Roger's on a trip to Boston. It's a Friday evening, she can sleep in tomorrow, and she can't resist the kind of isolation she gets by shutting herself in here. Something about the atmosphere of the room relaxes her and makes her feel as though she's actually working, and though she'd never admit it, Vicki can't deny that she does like the feeling of power she gets when sitting at the desk, even though she can't explain it. The swiveling chair doesn't hurt matters, either.
Vicki's almost to the record player in the corner of the room when the overhead light comes on above her and it makes her jump. She gasps and turns, clutching the record to her chest. There's a flash of tension before she registers that the man standing in the doorway is Roger. Vicki sighs with relief, but he doesn't look terribly impressed, crossing his arms across his chest.
"Roger!" she says with a smile, dropping her guard. "I thought you weren't due back from Boston until Sunday."
"Yes, the meetings went much quicker than expected," Roger replies, then leaping right into, "May I ask what you're doing in here, Vicki?"
She never breaks her smile and nods toward the folder sitting on the desk. "Grading some of David's papers." Vicki turns from him and takes the record from its sleeve and onto the player itself, moving the needle so that it will play before she walks back behind the desk and sits down in the chair, spinning in it slightly. She can't resist.
Roger follows her with his eyes and opens his mouth possibly to protest, until the music fills the room. He looks at the - his - record player in shock and looks back at Vicki with utter confusion. "What on Earth is this?!"
"Hm?" Vicki looks up from the folder to Roger, and then back to her work. "The Beatles." She points to the record sleeve with the pen she's holding. Roger picks it up - Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band - and he sneers slightly behind it so that she can't see.
"I... see." And he puts it back down. There's an awkward pause before, "Isn't it a bit late to be grading?"
"I find that I work better at night, actually." Vicki looks up and smiles at him again and he sighs.
Roger takes pacing around the room until he comes to a stop behind Vicki's chair, peering over her shoulder as if he's hoping she'll slip up, and he can call it a mistake on account of lack of sleep. But she doesn't. "Vicki, don't you normally do this in the drawing room?"
"Yes, but..." Vicki glances behind her shoulder at him. She turns her chair around to face him. "Why? Is there something that you need?"
"Oh, no." Roger shakes his head. "I simply would appreciate it if you would ask before using this room." He shrugs his blazer off of his shoulders and loosens his tie a bit. After all, he's finally home and the train back wasn't exactly soothing; no one can fault him for starting to relax.
Vicki knows all of that but she still finds it polite to avert her eyes, swiveling back around to face the desk. She has work to concentrate on, anyhow. "I'm sorry," she says gently. It's time for her to relinquish the power that she never truly had in the first place. "I'll be sure to get permission next time." Vicki risks a glance back at Roger and bites her lip.
Roger crosses his arms again and then drops them to his sides, the sight of Vicki's timid face with wide eyes and damp, dark hair falling over her shoulders while she twirls the pen in her fingers making him take hold of the chair and turn it in his direction. He leans down to lift her chin, and she shies away as his blue eyes meet her blue ones and he says, "You've nothing to apologize for." He kisses her.
It's something else that she won't admit, but Vicki's been waiting - hoping, at the very least - for that since she realized that he was standing in the doorway.
She tries to avoid eye contact and blushes, putting the pen aside on the desk and biting her lip again. He smirks. He's used to the shyness by now; at this point, he might even think it's for show, especially when her arms wrap around his neck to draw him into another kiss. His lips parted and his tongue gently grazes her bottom lip and she pulls away. Roger has to stifle a groan of disappointment, sighing in annoyance instead. She would be a tease at a time like this. "What?"
Vicki, on the other hand, has to cover her mouth to suppress a giggle, gently pushing on his shoulder. "Close the door."
yellow light. (stoplight system.)
concerning: Victoria Winters, Roger Collins.
922. words; complete. original post date: 09-09-09.
It's almost midnight by the time that Vicki tiptoes her way into the study after a quick shower, a vinyl record and a folder full of papers under her arm. Quietly, she closes the door and sets the papers on the desk, not bothering to glance around for the light switch. There's a lamp on the desk; she can use that when she needs it. For now, she knows her way around the study like the back of her hand. Vicki knows she's technically not supposed to be in here without permission; official, personal documents lay in the drawers and whatnot, but it's not as though she's snooping. But it's late. Missus Stoddard and Carolyn have gone to bed, and Roger's on a trip to Boston. It's a Friday evening, she can sleep in tomorrow, and she can't resist the kind of isolation she gets by shutting herself in here. Something about the atmosphere of the room relaxes her and makes her feel as though she's actually working, and though she'd never admit it, Vicki can't deny that she does like the feeling of power she gets when sitting at the desk, even though she can't explain it. The swiveling chair doesn't hurt matters, either.
Vicki's almost to the record player in the corner of the room when the overhead light comes on above her and it makes her jump. She gasps and turns, clutching the record to her chest. There's a flash of tension before she registers that the man standing in the doorway is Roger. Vicki sighs with relief, but he doesn't look terribly impressed, crossing his arms across his chest.
"Roger!" she says with a smile, dropping her guard. "I thought you weren't due back from Boston until Sunday."
"Yes, the meetings went much quicker than expected," Roger replies, then leaping right into, "May I ask what you're doing in here, Vicki?"
She never breaks her smile and nods toward the folder sitting on the desk. "Grading some of David's papers." Vicki turns from him and takes the record from its sleeve and onto the player itself, moving the needle so that it will play before she walks back behind the desk and sits down in the chair, spinning in it slightly. She can't resist.
Roger follows her with his eyes and opens his mouth possibly to protest, until the music fills the room. He looks at the - his - record player in shock and looks back at Vicki with utter confusion. "What on Earth is this?!"
"Hm?" Vicki looks up from the folder to Roger, and then back to her work. "The Beatles." She points to the record sleeve with the pen she's holding. Roger picks it up - Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band - and he sneers slightly behind it so that she can't see.
"I... see." And he puts it back down. There's an awkward pause before, "Isn't it a bit late to be grading?"
"I find that I work better at night, actually." Vicki looks up and smiles at him again and he sighs.
Roger takes pacing around the room until he comes to a stop behind Vicki's chair, peering over her shoulder as if he's hoping she'll slip up, and he can call it a mistake on account of lack of sleep. But she doesn't. "Vicki, don't you normally do this in the drawing room?"
"Yes, but..." Vicki glances behind her shoulder at him. She turns her chair around to face him. "Why? Is there something that you need?"
"Oh, no." Roger shakes his head. "I simply would appreciate it if you would ask before using this room." He shrugs his blazer off of his shoulders and loosens his tie a bit. After all, he's finally home and the train back wasn't exactly soothing; no one can fault him for starting to relax.
Vicki knows all of that but she still finds it polite to avert her eyes, swiveling back around to face the desk. She has work to concentrate on, anyhow. "I'm sorry," she says gently. It's time for her to relinquish the power that she never truly had in the first place. "I'll be sure to get permission next time." Vicki risks a glance back at Roger and bites her lip.
Roger crosses his arms again and then drops them to his sides, the sight of Vicki's timid face with wide eyes and damp, dark hair falling over her shoulders while she twirls the pen in her fingers making him take hold of the chair and turn it in his direction. He leans down to lift her chin, and she shies away as his blue eyes meet her blue ones and he says, "You've nothing to apologize for." He kisses her.
It's something else that she won't admit, but Vicki's been waiting - hoping, at the very least - for that since she realized that he was standing in the doorway.
She tries to avoid eye contact and blushes, putting the pen aside on the desk and biting her lip again. He smirks. He's used to the shyness by now; at this point, he might even think it's for show, especially when her arms wrap around his neck to draw him into another kiss. His lips parted and his tongue gently grazes her bottom lip and she pulls away. Roger has to stifle a groan of disappointment, sighing in annoyance instead. She would be a tease at a time like this. "What?"
Vicki, on the other hand, has to cover her mouth to suppress a giggle, gently pushing on his shoulder. "Close the door."