"I'm not your student anymore..." There was the lightest of touches on his shoulder, a mere whisper of fingertips brushing the skin. She was standing behind him, waiting for him to turn. Bridget. He had known her, in a sense, since before she was born. A 14 year old boy, dead for half a millenia but still walking the earth, surviving on blood and orgasms. At one time, Laurie had told Jim that he was a walking hormone. But he had taken him as an apprentice nonetheless, and Jim's girlfriend Linnette as well. And he had token both to his bed. The memories washed over him, of waking up in San Francisco one evening, Linnette's body curled against his, the other side of the bed strangely empty. Jim had spent the night at his sire's, stopping by for dinner. Lazily, Laurie stretched, one hand reaching for the remote control, turning the TV on quietly until Linnette awoke. "And in local news this evening, three locations have been the victims of horrific firebombings during the afternoon, including a townhouse filled with 68 tenants. No survivors have been found." The newscaster's voice droned on, as in the background film of a viciously burning and dancing flames were shown, licking up the sides of the building, devouring it. One arm tightened around Linnette's waist, waking her, as he recognized the building. "Jim." His voice was no more than a whisper. "Huh?" Linnette rolled over, breasts pressed casually to Laurie's bare chest. "What about Jim? He should be back to the hotel soon." Silently, Laurie pointed at the television set. She didn't understand at first, until Laurie pushed her away, leaving the room. Then alone, suddenly, it overtook her. "No!" She wailed and began to cry, heaving sobs. Laurie let her cry alone, standing in the bathroom of the hotel, head pressed against the mirror, body limp and unwilling to move. He showered mechanically and then went into the main room to pack. "I can't feel him anymore," Linn whispered. "He's gone. Just like that, he's gone." She raised tear streaked eyes to Laurie's. "I could feel him Laurie. We were bound together, and now he's gone." Laurie looked away, handing her a suitcase. "Pack. I'll put you on a flight to Toronto." His smooth British accent made his tone seem impersonal. Far away. He made it all the way back to London before he truly broke down. And over time, he managed to forget about Jim. But now, Bridget's hands were firm on his shoulders, turning him to face her. "I'm not your student anymore." She was smiling as she said it, then cupped his face in her hands, not letting him move away as she bent to kiss him, full on the lips, small tongue darting into his mouth. Laurie remembered the first time he heard from her. It was a single phone call in the middle of the night, and a childish voice asking softly, "Laurie? It's me, Jim." "Jim?" Laurie's clipped tones betrayed his surprise at the whispering girlish voice on the phone. "Remember that reincarnation magic I was working with?" The voice on the other end waited a moment, then added, "It worked." Laurie stared at the phone, bewildered. Jim? But he was dead, a pile of ash in a burnt building, along with his sire, Anita. "Where are you?" "Somewhere near the Scottish border, I think." There was a hesitation. "There's a circle of stones near here, and mom's a witch. I can't talk long. I'm only two." "You'll probably get whupped when your parents find out about this." Laurie reacted as if it were perfectly reasonable to be having a conversation with a toddler who claimed to be an old friend. "What are you doing out of bed?" "Its the only time I could call!" A slight note of exasperation had crept into the childish voice. "Laurie, I can't take it any more. My mom's stifling me. You've got to get me out of here." Two years old? What could Laurie do about the situation? "I'll do what I can. Now get back to bed before you're caught." "Yes, Laurie." A faint click, followed shortly by a dial tone. Laurie stood there, phone in his hand, for several minutes. A small child, claiming to be Jim, and desperate to be rescued. A town near the Scottish border with a set of standing stones. And a mother who was a witch. He slowly pulled open the drawer of his desk and started to look through his files. One hand scrawled notes on a pad of paper, almost intelligible to anyone but himself. "Must remember to find out where the call was from," he mused, hand alighting on the file about the stone circles. "This could take some work." Before long, the mother was convinced and Bridget Randall, a child prodigy, had been installed at the Academy. She sat in his office, eyes wide as she looked around, pudgy toddler legs hanging off the edge of the couch. Staring at the adorable girl-child, Laurie had trouble associating her with the sarcastic Aztec teen he had known. "Laurie, I need your help. I need to get older." The voice belonged to a child, but the determination was pure Jim. "How old?" Laurie asked reasonably. This had been discussed before, and the magical ritual was prepared. Only one final component was needed -- age. The child shrugged. "I was fourteen when I died before. That should be a good place to start." And two days later, the deed was done. Bridget spent the time floating in an artificial womb, nutrients fed constantly to the rapidly growing tissues, pain wracking the muscles and joints as they expanded unnaturally. She was drying off, standing on still unsteady feet, when Laurie walked in. "I see you're done." He looked a little uncomfortable. It wasn't as if he had never seen Jim nude before, but this was different. Bridget glanced down. A nice body, she decided, just as she had requested. Being a woman could be intriguing. And being human was nice. Glancing up again, she caught the expression in Laurie's eyes and hid a smile. Yes, the body was definitely what she had requested. She spread her hands, an impish light dancing in her eyes. "Well?" "Very nice," he agreed, his throat tight. Part of him was screaming with thirst, and the rest with something else entirely. He could sweep her up and take the two of them to his office, or his room, and no one would be the wiser. But a rational voice in the back of his mind reminded him -- she was a child, and his student, and this time, she was also mortal. He simply couldn't do it. "Put some clothes on." His voice was harsher than he meant, and he saw the hurt in her eyes as he turned and left. He saw the same expression at dinner, when he finally introduced her to her new classmates and then withdrew to join his peers, leaving her alone with the strangers. With the instinctual knowledge of a beautiful girl, she began to flirt. Each day in class he saw her, modest skirts raised above the knee as she sat, eyes lowered slightly looking at each of her classmates. Jim had never been prejudiced -- his hormones drove him for comfort and pleasure -- and it appeared that Bridget was much the same. The security cameras showed him when she made her first conquest. Caren, an older girl, and one who was strictly set towards women only. The cameras in the student's rooms were only to make certain that no magical experiments went awry. Instead, Laurie found that he had captured on video tape every intimate moment of their night, ending with Bridget licking her fingers, smiling down at her sleeping friend. Laurie took the tapes from the security room, erasing them, and quickly disabled the camera in Caren's room. There were those other than himself that occasionally checked in on the students, and he had no wish to put them on display again. In class he withdrew, never calling on her, never answering her questions directly. If she approached him after class, he would direct her to another professor, or even a student, for help. And each time, the hurt in her eyes was replaced by determination. She grew bolder, teasing him with looks no one else noticed. And no one else cared. He was handsome, and appeared quite young. All the girls wanted him. Bridget was determined to have him again. She took her lips from his, brushing them lightly across his nose, then nibbling lightly on his mouth. "We leave for the states tomorrow. Our last class was this afternoon. So I'm not your student anymore." She leaned in to kiss him again, and with a groan, Laurie gestured at her, and she disappeared from his sight. He hesitated only a moment. She almost hadn't gone on the exchange program. Her mother, upset with Laurie's sudden aging of her baby, had refused, and only careful negotiations had made her agree. Laurie had been relieved. With Bridget in another country, perhaps he could relax. Then somehow, plans changed, and now he would be going to the states as well. A slow smile spread across his face. She was right. When they set foot on American soil, she belonged to the Academy in Boston. Laurie's only affiliation with that school was the partnership with his own school in London. As of tonight, and for the next month, she was no longer his student. A second later he was in his room, and she was looking at him, a little surprised at finding herself there, then smiling as she remembered his most common spells of teleportation, or "bink" as he preferred to call them. He moved to her, hands fumbling with the buttons of her blouse. Damn all those buttons anyway. Her mother dressed the girl like the child he was, not like the woman she could be. After all, she wasn't truly not quite three years old. Bridget waved a hand and suddenly her clothes were stacked neatly to one side, folded and clean. Laurie stepped back in surprise, and Bridget smiled. "Magic," she explained calmly. A grin lighting her features, she stepped towards him, hand out. As a fingertip gently touched his chest, his clothes were gone as well, piled at the foot of the bed. She stood there then, just a short ways away from him, and waited, a half-smile on her face. Laurie merely stared, eyes caressing her body, mind and heart wavering once more. Confused thoughts, memories of Jim, and of Linnette as well. Bridget looked enough like her to be her sister. He took one step forward, closing the distance between them, sweeping her against his chest. Her head tucked under his chin, petite body curving against his. Her breasts were still small, crushed against the smooth skin of his own chest. He slid one arm down her back to her knees, then scooped her up, carrying her quickly and dropping her on the bed, falling down next to her. One hand stroked her legs, gliding up and down the velvet skin, while the other cradled a breast while his mouth slid over the nipple. Her back arched as she sighed, a breathy sound of pleasure. Her fingers began to stroke his back, gliding down across his buttocks, then over his hips and up again, over his chest to reach his face. Cradling his cheeks in her palms, she tugged lightly until he rose up to kiss her. She drew his tongue into her mouth, and he plunged the depths, a motion the rest of his body would soon echo. The hand stroking her leg slid up to the warm mound nestled between her legs. He stroked the soft fur, still only lightly sprinkled, then slid a finger between the lips. Already warm and wet, his finger slid easily into the cavern, and her hips thrust against his finger. He stroked deeply, stopping suddenly when he reached the barrier. Pausing and drawing away slightly, he gently poked at the barrier. Partly broken already, more than likely through her experiences with Caren, but still there nonetheless. "Bloody hell," he swore quietly. Bridget was looking up at him, eyes barely open, a half smile on her face as he continued to lightly stroke her. "What?" "You're still a bloody virgin." She started to smile. "Not for long." Reaching up, she pulled him down on top of her, covering her entire small body with his own. "Laurie, I don't *care* if I'm a virgin." She stifled the concern that her mother might have something to say about it, though. "And pretty soon, I'm not going to be, and I'll be a bloody non-virgin." She smiled at the joke she had made of her own virgin's blood. Laurie felt something react to her statement, something primal, something desperate. He quickly slid down her body, tongue reaching for that warmth. Finding her pleasure, he slowly began to lick until all talk of virginity was entirely forgotten. She began to moan, hands holding him to her, as he brought to the edge. He slid a finger inside again, and she began to thrust, harder and harder, but instinctively drawing back from the pain of the final thrust. As she drew closer, Laurie coaxed her into mindless movement. And as she went over, his finger slipped through the barrier, tearing it away, releasing a flow of warm liquid across his hand. She lay limply on the bed, while Laurie nibbled gently on her throbbing mound. When she wiggled slightly, he drew back, letting her rest as he licked the liquid from her fingertips. The tiniest taste of her blood sliding down his throat nearly sent him over the edge, and he had to stand, walking away from her to regain his control. He would not drink from her. He could not. Glancing back he could see the traces of blood across her thighs, and the deep red stain on the sheets. He slowly smiled. Yes, she was right, and now she was a bloody non-virgin. Pushing aside any thoughts of feeding, he walked back to the bed. Her eyes were open, gazing up at him with trust and completion. Then she slowly lowered her eyes, finding his member level with her face. She reached out a small hand and closed it around him, stroking lightly. Without a word, she rolled over onto her stomach, taking him in her mouth. It wasn't something she had a lot of experience with, at least not on the giving end, but it should be easy. Her tongue swirled around the tip, and she tried to remember what she had enjoyed and do just that. One hand cupped his balls, stroking lightly, while the other steadied him in her mouth. Slowly she drew him out, then slid him back in, tongue swirling around then base, then again around the tip. His hands rested on her shoulders as her mouth worked its own magic. He could feel it starting to build, and now that he had paved the way, he'd be damned if he wasn't going to take advantage of the situation. "Lie back," he instructed hoarsely. Obediently, she rolled over on her back, arms behind her head, lifting her small breasts slightly, and her legs slightly spread. He lay down next to her, stroking her body while he looked at her. "Do you think you're ready for this?" "Do you have to ask?" Her own voice was soft and urgent, and she pulled him on top of her. He slid in almost without effort, and she gasped slightly at first. He stopped, sliding one finger again between them, finding her nub and slowly stroking it until her hips began to move as she groaned. He began to move then, slowly stroking within her. He could feel her curled beneath him, and he felt he must be suffocating her, and unlike him, she still needed to breath. Sliding both arms around her, he hugged her close and rolled, ending up with her on top of him, a slightly surprised expression on her face at the sudden deeper penetration. His hands grasped her hips, holding her eyes with his, and they both began to move. With one finger he continued to stroke her, bringing her again to the brink of passion. She was gasping, her fingers dug into his shoulders deeply enough to leave imprints. Losing himself finally, Laurie allowed himself release, pulling her hips tightly to him as he thrust into her one last time. He could feel the tiny pricks in his shoulders as her hands clenched, her voice catching in her throat, a scream of pleasure swallowed as she collapsed against his chest. Gently, he stroked her hair, damp curls lying across her back. Her eyes were closed and she looked as if she were asleep, curled in his arms, bodies still linked. Slowly, her eyes flickered open and she smiled. "That was fun. May I have another?" Laughing, he rolled her over. "Oh, really?" One eyebrow raised as he stared down at her, his hands already stroking her irristable body. "Do you think you're ready?" Her eyes began to close again as she gently steered his head down to the aching spot between her legs. Her voice was barely a whisper, "Yes." Hours later, she was asleep on his bed, Laurie lazily licking a few of the last traces of her virgin blood off his fingertips. She seemed so innocent, so unlike the passionate woman and much more like a child in her sleep. He lay back, drained by the passion and fervor she had displayed. She reminded him still of Linnette, and of Jim, and a bit of Brooke as well. A little of all them rolled into one. She was Bridget.