With judicious use of his umbrella, Magadon, in his guise of Prof. Anthony Montclair, batted the little haemonculi into the one of the slivers of gloom thrown up by the academic detritus of his room.

"That will do, thank you!" He shouted after it, before snorting as he resumed his place loafing in his red velvet chair, feet comfortably put up on the warped oak desk.

The shadow-wrought construct had been filling his head with memories, an unforeseen talent it had developed. The Administration, curse their nitpicking and arrogant ways, had forced many of its employees, namely its teachers, to tutor its students and to whip back the falling grade averages.

For all the good it would do, he had thought with a bland smile as he sat through the numbing three hours. If they didn't want to learn, no use to try. Females at this age were very stubborn.

With a few exceptions... Among which, was this particular student. One Emmeline Whitaker, a senior late of London, England.

The Kali lamp had finally simmered out, only the traces of sweet opium lingering in the educationally-dusted air. He took a deep breath, filling the lungs of his form.

With a slow exhale, a cool smile formed impossibly wide on his thin lips right before the light forced him to return them to its normal state.

One must present ones' self professionally to students, after all.

(This may be edited in the near-future...)

Emmeline made her way down the nearly deserted halls of Shokushu's history department, the heels of her black mary janes clicking loudly against the tile floors. As she navigated the labyrinth of hallways and stair wells she smiled brightly at the few other girls she passed by but, apparently not quite so enthusiastic about their extracurricular study sessions, for the most part they merely scowled at perky freshman in response.

After several wrong turns the young woman finally found herself in the increasingly familiar hallway that contained the entrance to Professor Montclair's office. Hugging her textbook and a spiral-bound notebook to her chest she resisted the urge to giggle excitedly and sprint down the hall. She couldn't believe how lucky she was; her favorite teacher not only taught her favorite subject, but he'd been assigned to help her catch up with the rest of the class, thanks to her mid-semester transfer to the school. She'd had plenty of brilliant teachers in her life, but never one as...odd as Montclair, though his eccentricities only intrigued Emi further. The fact that he was young and handsome didn't hurt either.

The simple black skirt she wore brushed the tops of her knees as she walked, perhaps a bit quicker than normal, towards the professor's door, but the slit running up her right leg exposed the top of her thigh-high stockings when it flashed open with each step. The white peasant top she'd chosen hugged her breasts but flowed away from her trim waist, it's wide neckline partially exposing her shoulders and just a bit of cleavage.

She took a deep breath and checked her watch as she arrived at the right door to be sure she was perfectly on time, as usual. After taking a moment to smooth out some nonexistent wrinkles in her skirt and run her fingers through her silky black hair she reached up and rapped three times on the heavy oak door.

"Professor Montclair? It's Emmeline, Sir."

(Sorry it's late. Had work to attend plus a crisis of sorts. I won't bore you with the details...)

It took almost ten minutes for Montclair to process the voice outside his door and the nature of her inquiry. It took almost just as long for the moon-faced teacher to haul himself off his chair to be a gentleman and open the door.

Stumbling on the clutter that littered his dusty office, a noticeably more casual-looking professor leaned on the now open portal. On his shirt, the red tie was loosened and the topmost button undone, revealing a toned, if not very pale, chest. A mild smile framed his lips and the golden eyes behind the frames twinkled.

Whether from the opium-laced air he'd barely managed to dispel or a growing sense of familiarity, Emmeline couldn't tell.

His long-haired head sketched a bow. "Ms. Whittaker, on time as always." He managed with sincere affability.

Emi waited patiently as her habitually tardy professor did…whatever it was he did in the times between when she knocked and when he answered the door. She rocked back and forth on her heels, blue eyes idly scanning the cheap photocopied fliers tacked up to a bulletin board across the hall.

When the doorknob turned Emmeline snapped to attention, a bright grin greeting the professor when he opened the door. “Good evening sir!” The girl chirped brightly, hugging her textbook and notes to her chest and bowing deeply.

She snapped back up, grinning still, and tucked her hair behind her ear as she surveyed her tutor’s slightly rumpled appearance. She wondered what had led to his more relaxed appearance, her mind briefly flashing to a photoset she’d stumbled across featuring an actress in a skimpy schoolgirl costume and pigtails being bent over a teacher’s knee and spanked with a ruler. There weren’t many female teachers on campus, and Emi found herself wondering, not for the first time, whether or not Professor Montclair ever fucked his students.

She blushed and let out a soft, nervous laugh when she realized she’d been staring at his chest for a few moments longer than appropriate. “S-so, what will I be learning this evening?”

A theatric sigh escaped him.

"A subject I personally believe is the dreariest of the lot; Advanced Trigonometry." Montclair shuddered, adding dramatic emphasis on 'Trigonometry'.

He spoke with a cool urbanity, as if Emmeline was a familiar friend. With a smooth gesture, Montclair opened the door wider, inviting her in with little else but a word.

"Or I could say we're studying when I'm really showing you a set of Post-Babylonian scrolls, found in some lonely tomb in the Iraqi. It's your time wasted, after all."

All the while, he wove power into the air around him, willing the opium to dispel more.

Emi giggled, covering her mouth with a delicate hand as the professor exaggeratedly emoted. Mathematics had never been one of her favorite subjects, but she found most if it fairly simple and had no intention of complaining about a couple hours wasted with her current crush object.

The ebony-haired student swept gracefully into the cluttered office, resisting the urge to skip giddily as Professor Montclair motioned her in. She detected strange, faint scent as she made her way over to her normal chair and took a seat but gave it no thought. It never occurred to the girl that her favored instructor might be indulging in any "questionable practices" - at least not any that didn't fit nicely into her personal fantasies.

At the mention of the scrolls Emi jumped back to her feet and clapped her hands together, sending her notebook and pencils clattering to the floor near her feet. Her deep blue eyes practically glowed with excitement. "Really??" she gasped, gazing up at her tutor in the same way a child might look at a parent who'd just told her she could have a kitten instead of a pet rock.

It took much of his self-control not to rub her ears and rub cat nip on her neck.

Montclair coughed and brushed a stray lock of hair from his face. He played at embarrassment.

"Yes, I do. Apparently, those scrolls contain a great deal of knowledge thought lost from the Bronze Age, particularly the Akkadian Empire. Just think of all that wisdom from the cradle of civilization!"

"If only I could find them, though." He gestured at the mess around him, his face sheepish. "I discovered them missing yesterday, when I came back from class. Would it trouble you to help me look? And who knows what else we may find?"

Emmeline's grin only widened as the professor elaborated, her deep blue eyes gleaming with an intense hunger for knowledge. The prospect of not only gaining learning something new, but something that almost no one else knew, was an irresistible temptation to her.

Her smile faded to a disappointed pout when he revealed that the scrolls were missing, and Emi began to glance around the cluttered little office. The eclectic collection that filled the tiny space suddenly seemed a bit intimidating, but no amount of miscellany would keep her from her new knowledge

She turned quickly back to Professor Montclair, her ebony black hair flaring out as she spun, and flashed him a determined girl. "Yes sir!" she chirped, giving him a little mock salute before giggling slightly, giddy with excitement. "Where should I start?"

(my fault. Sorry to keep you waiting,)

He almost scratched her ears then and there.

If he could, the skin on Prof. Montclair's neck would have colored on odd shade of pink. But then, he realized he could not do that. Thankfully.

He coughed again, but not to clear the residue of opium smoke from his throat as the pale professor flapped his hand towards his cluttered desk.

"I know I left it somewhere there..."

Emi enthusiastically went to work searching for the errant scrolls. She delicately sorted through piles of books and papers and the oddest assortment of artifacts and seemingly random junk she’d ever seen.

She started with the piles nearest her, but her search proved fruitless. Gradually she moved through the ephemera, her eyebrows angled down and her soft, full lips pursed in a tight little pout as she concentrated on her search.

As dark-haired young woman worked she began to lean farther and farther over the desk. Somewhere in the back of her mind she was aware of how…questionable it would look if someone were to walk into the office. A lovely young woman, alone with her teacher late in the evening, bent over his desk? Her imagination began to wander down familiar paths, but she bit her lower lip, intent on focusing on her quest.

Still, it didn’t stop her from altering her pose slightly. The normally shy student arched her back slightly, thrusting her beautifully sculpted rear up and wriggling it slightly as she reached for a stack of miscellany on the far side of the large desk.

With a flash of insight, Prof. Montclair, who happened to own an alias, may have understood why he was coughing so much.

A felt a flush touch his pale cheeks as he watched Emmeline slink and search his room over, her taut but well-endowed young body flouncing and bouncing with each movement. That-which-wears-the-guise of-man could not suppress a gulp, even as he busied himself finding the scrolls.

It became harder for Prof. Montclair to concentrate when her rear, the barely-covered-by-the-black-skirt rear which he found himself staring at whenever Emmeline him passed by, teasingly wiggled and bounced, his sharp, night-enhanced eyes catching each little movement.

He gulped harder. "J-just be careful of the p-pictures..."

The pictures he referred to were just within the reach of her pale hands. A grumpy-faced teen with messy black hair and familiar golden eyes wearing clothes just as dark humphed at any viewer. He was surrounded by who could only be his family, each sharing the same taste for clothes as well as corpse-white skin and ink-black hair. A girl whose hair may have been the longest held tight on the boy's arm, winking mischievously at whoever took the shot.

"Pictures?" the girl asked, glancing over her shoulder.

Of course if you wave a string in front of a cat, it's only logical that it's going to pounce. Emi's bright blue eyes scanned the piles of miscellany and quickly zeroed in on the photos in question.

"Awwwww...! Is that you?" She asked, snatching up the pictures and spinning around to face the distracted professor. "And the girl - you've got a sister?"

"I'm an only child..." she added, grinning ruefully.

"There are seven of us, including her, and I wouldn't wish the curse of siblings on anyone."

He matched her rueful grin with one of his own as he walked up to her and took his place, sitting on the table top next to her. The proximity of Emmeline and her pale white skin forced him to dig deep so as not to reveal his unease.

"But it has been a while," Montclair whispered, reaching and tracing the image of his sister. "I wonder how they are... How she's doing..."

Golden eyes suddenly found her deep blue orbs. "She's already in college, you know. Finishing up her master's in education."

Emi giggled. The way her arms moved briefly squeezed her pert young breasts together, pushing them up and deepening the cleavage that peeked out from the collar of her blouse. The effect vanished when her shoulders relaxed a moment later though, and the girl seemed oblivious.

"Oh I'm sure it couldn't have been that bad. Better than having no one but your parents to talk to when you're at home, at least..."

She watched as the professor's pale fingers traced the photo, caught slightly off guard by his melancholy tone.

The young heiress blushed slightly when their gazes met again, and gave him a crooked grin. "Teaching runs in the blood, huh? Noble family."

Montclair shook his head, his face a mask of bemusment that distracted most from his true thoughts.

Thoughts focused on her... attributes. Particularly her eager mind, radiant like a little star and her gently-jiggling breasts.

"No, just me, her and Ben. He's our eldest brother and the first of the Montclair teachers."

The professor in sleek black sat fully resting on his hard oak desk. He began to count off his siblings on his long white fingers.

"Joss and Carr have their fishing boat, Andy works in a public library and Finn's a independent musician and producer." He smiled that gentle but bright smile he'd cultivated around the new students. "You should hear him play. I've been trying to get him to come here but for some reason, elements of the administration and student council keep blocking me."

Prof. Montclair gave vent to a sad sigh. "Finn's music is good, he keeps his hands to himself." He whispered in a hurt sort of voice, like a child that didn't understand why he got cut.