Interesting Possibilities
by Ann Douglas
Claire Roselli paused at the sound of the doorbell, glancing up from the
last of the dinner dishes in the sink to the wall clock above. The clock read a
quarter to seven, pointing out to the forty year old that she was running about
thirty minutes late. At least according to the evening's original plans.
Laying that last dish on the drying rack, Claire dried her hands on a
nearby towel and then walked the short ten feet to the apartment door. It only
took a further few moments to undo the double locks, the bulk of that time used
to glance through the peephole to verify the identity of her caller. Not that she
had any doubt of it at all.
The locks undone, the door opened to reveal a stout, curly haired, black
woman about ten years older than Claire. Dressed in a pair of jeans and a non-
descript blue blouse under her coat, the woman also wore a look of impatience
on her face, one that quickly became more intense once she saw that Claire
wasn't even dressed yet.
"You do remember that the class starts at eight sharp," Patricia Grant
said without preamble as she stepped inside the apartment, "and that you were
supposed to meet me at the bus stop almost twenty minutes ago."
"I remembered… both," Claire said as she closed and locked the door
behind Patricia. "I meant to call you, but I lost track of time."
Patricia's look said that she wasn't going to buy that as an explanation.
Not with her friend's almost compulsive obsession about always being on time
for things.
"Okay," Claire admitted, knowing that her lie was a poor one, "I guess I
was just thinking that maybe I'd skip the class this week and..."
"And you figured," Patricia said, completing Claire's train of thought, but
not in the way she had planned, "that if you waited until the last minute to tell
me, like you're doing now, rather than mention it at work this morning, or even
call me at home an hour ago, that I wouldn't have time to talk you out of it. In
fact, I wouldn't have time to do much of anything if I had any plans to catch the
bus and make it there on time."
Now it was Claire's expression that gave a non-verbal reply, one that
said her plan had been something like that.
"Well, my friend, it wasn't a bad plan," Patricia smiled. "In fact, it
probably would've worked. The only little flaw in it is that we're not taking the
bus tonight, because Benjamin left me his car when he went out of town for the
weekend. So we still have just enough time for you to march your little tail into
that bedroom, trade that old housecoat for something more appropriate, and still
be on time for class."
Claire hesitated for a moment, considering if she should say she also
wasn't feeling well, but then thought better of it. Even if she was a better liar, she
would never be comfortable lying to a woman who had become her best friend
these past few years. And it was quickly obvious that Patricia wasn't going to
take any excuse short of her being ill.
"It's taken me almost six months to pry you out of this apartment and
there's no way I'm going to let you slip back into that pattern of spending Friday
nights camped out in front of the television set eating junk food," Patricia said.
"If I can't convince you to go out and meet someone, then I'm going to make
sure you at least go out."
Claire wanted to say that she liked television and junk food but thought
better of it. It would've been a poor thank you for all the trouble Patricia had
gone through over her this past half year. So keeping her retort to herself, she
instead gave her a smile of surrender and said she would be ready in a few
minutes.
Stepping into the bedroom, while Patricia waited in the living room,
Claire undid her light blue housecoat and tossed it across the chair by the bed.
Since she wasn't expecting anyone other than Patricia, she hadn't bothered with
any undergarments when she had changed clothes earlier. Standing naked in
front of the dresser mirror, the short haired brunette took a few moments to look
at the reflection facing her. Her first thought was that she didn't look bad for her
age, certainly better than her mother and both her aunts had looked at this point
in their lives. Women today, she reasoned, were better informed and more
motivated to take care of their bodies.
Of course she could afford to lose a few pounds, but what woman of any
age didn't think that? Her breasts, while comparatively average in size, were still
firm enough to defy gravity on their own, and those proverbial extra pounds were
spread evenly enough across her body that she did not look overweight. Not
that anyone had ever used that term to describe her. Her legs were still trim and
well defined, and the tiny bush that sat at the junction between them might have
been lighter in color than it once was, but not excessively so. Men still found her
attractive, she believed, so why was it so hard for her to move forward and put
that thought to the test?
The answer, she knew, was closer than the mirrored glass. It had
already been a year since her relationship with David had ended, but she was
still finding it impossible to take that first step forward. After almost three years
together, the unforeseen collapse of that relationship had left her in a state of
free fall that she seemed unable to pull herself out of.
Eight years older than Claire, David had been a mathematics teacher at
the same school that she and Patricia taught at. While the prestigious academy
tended to frown on staff members dating, there was no official policy to prevent
it. Besides, when she had first begun spending time with David, the idea of it
developing into something more serious never entered her mind.
It had started off innocently enough, first shared lunches with a few other
staff members, then more private ones with just the two of them. That led, in
time, to an occasional drink after the day was done, again in a group at first,
changing to a more intimate pairing after a while. By the time they went on an
actual date, people had begun to wonder why it had taken so long. The dates
quickly became more frequent, and in what Claire considered a surprisingly short
span, given the pace that everything had proceeded at, led to the two of them
sharing a bed. The public knowledge of which didn't make some of the more
conservative members of the school's executive board happy, but there was little
that they could do about it.
David had been twice divorced and understandably gun-shy about
making a third trip to the altar, not placing much faith in the old saying that the
third time was the charm. Having had her own marriage of over a decade end in
divorce some years earlier, Claire understood his concerns, or at least felt she
did, and was willing to settle for less than the ideal. They didn't need a piece of
paper, she told herself, and on the first anniversary of the night they had
consummated their couplehood, Claire suggested that they move in together.
After all, it wasn't like either of them was a kid anymore, and there were few
people in their personal or professional lives that didn't know they were already
married in all but name.
To her surprise, David was adamantly opposed to the idea, insisting that
he wanted to maintain his own apartment. Claire thought that a considerable
waste of money, given the amount of time he spent at hers, but decided in the
end not to push the point. After all, it was his money that he was wasting.
Better, she told herself, to concentrate on what they had together rather than
what they didn't.
With their living arrangements settled, things went along their merry way
for the next few years, with hardly a ripple of discontent from either of them.
Therefore, it was something of a shock when, a week before the last school year
ended, David unexpectedly announced that he was relocating to Florida to
accept a teaching position there. Claire had been devastated by the
pronouncement, especially since he hadn't given her an inkling of his intentions.
Not even when they had gone to Florida on vacation during the mid-semester
break, and he had left her on her own for a day while he took care of what he
termed personal family business. It was now clear that the family business had
been an interview with the new school's administrators. There hadn't even been
time to discuss it, because he was expected in Florida the following week for the
start of the summer session.
Once the initial shock wore off and the summer began to wear on, Claire
had tried to take it all in stride. She reminded herself that, in all their time
together, David had never promised her anything more than what they had. Any
promise for a more permanent future had existed only in her hopes.
While the logical part of her mind tried to concentrate on those facts, the
emotional half took a far different tract - that David had been a lousy lying
bastard who had used her and then tossed her aside. In the end, the emotional
side had won out, but in that victory it had left her so mortified that she had
retreated into a cocoon, locking most everyone out. At least until Patricia had
stepped in and begun to drag her out of it. Kicking and screaming at first,
symbolically if not figuratively, but then with a little less reluctance at time went
by.
"Now that's better," Patricia said as Claire emerged from the bedroom
wearing a dark blue, mid-length denim skirt and a white, sleeveless, button-
downed blouse.
"I'm only doing this for you," Claire said as she slipped her bare feet into
a pair of black loafers that she had left by the couch. "I don't want you to think
that I'm unappreciative of all the things you've been trying to do for me."
"I'll take any reason as long as I get you outside these four walls,"
Patricia smiled.
"But there is one thing that I did want to say," Claire added as she took
a light-weight jacket from the small wooden coat rack that hung by the door.
"And that would be?" Patricia asked as she picked up her own coat from
the arm of the couch where she had laid it.
"I know we've been going to this class for more than a few weeks now,"
Claire said as she put on the jacket, "but I still feel funny about it."
"Oh we're not going to start that again, are we?" Pat said, cutting her
friend off.
"No, I mean it," Claire said, just as quickly. "When you first told me you
were going to sign us both up for a course at the community college, I thought
you were talking about a book discussion group or maybe even a cooking class.
I never expected it to be an art course."
"As if I'm going to learn how to cook at this point in my life," Patricia
laughed as she put on her coat. "Besides, what could be more natural? You
are, after all, an art teacher."
"I teach art appreciation to a bunch of high school seniors, most of
whom are totally indifferent to the subject and only take it for an easy grade,"
Claire clarified in a even tone. "There's a big difference between that and
actually going into a studio and …"
"Wait a second," Patricia interrupted, again cutting Claire off. "Did you
or did you not once tell me that back when you were in college there was almost
nothing that you enjoyed more than being in the studio in front of an easel with a
palette and brush in your hands?"
"That was a long time ago," Claire said.
"You never forget your first love," Patricia grinned.
"Also back then, I used to do landscapes, still life and such," Claire
added. "The course you signed us up for was the male form."
"So."
"I've never been very good at drawing people."
"Neither am I, or anyone else in the class for that matter," Patricia
replied, glancing down at her watch, "but this gives you a chance to get better at
it."
"There's also the matter of the models," Claire went on, ignoring
Patricia's obvious hint as to the time.
"What about them?" Patricia went on as she started for the door.
"I sometimes feel that this class is nothing more than an excuse for a
bunch of old women to spend their evening looking at half-naked young men."
Patricia paused a moment, having to stifle the urge to laugh and told her
friend to watch who she was referring to as old. Then she added, "You say that
like it was a bad thing."
Once she had actually said it out loud, Claire had to admit it did sound
rather silly. The view certainly beat anything that was on the tube tonight, at
least on any of the non-cable stations.
Patricia again looked at her watch, pointing out that if they didn't get
going, they really were going to be late. Claire grabbed her purse off the small
stand by the door and together they exited out into the hall.
Luck and the traffic were with them and they arrived at the college with a
few minutes to spare. Just enough time to get their smocks and supplies from
the storage locker before the class started at the stroke of eight.
-=-=-=-
"Well, I'd like to welcome everyone back," Madeline Petrowski, the
sixty-something year old professor giving the class, said as she walked through
the door and strode up to the front of the room. "It's nice to see we still have a
full roster, although it's been my experience that this particular class has very
few dropouts."
There was a small measure of laughter in response to her comment,
giving Claire the chance to look around the room at the faces of her fellow
students. As she had observed more than once before, there were only two
other women in the class younger than her.
"Oh, and we have one small change this week," Madeline said as she
settled in. "Michael, the young man who had been our model the past two
weeks, had to unexpectedly quit the class, but you'll be happy to know we were
able to secure a replacement for him. Hopefully this won't cause a problem for
any of you."
Claire could see a look of confusion on a few faces around her, adding
to her supposition that most of the women were here just to stare at the model.
Rather than having a problem with being unable to complete any unfinished
work, most seemed rather pleased to have someone new to look at.
"So I would ask you all to welcome Clark and please do your best to
make him feel comfortable," Madeline said as she motioned to the doorway
where a blonde haired young man had just appeared.
All eyes, Claire's included, watched as he walked to the front of the
room, stepping up onto the small stage, undoing the sash of his robe as he did
so, and then dropped it to the floor below. In the second or third week of the
class, Claire didn't remember exactly which, there had been some idle
speculation among some of the women as to the question of whether Professor
Petrowski got to personally interview any potential models for the course. That
question had quickly led to an even greater supposition as to what those
interviews might've entailed, with a number of the students offering their own
suggestions. It had been discussions like that which had led to Claire's feeling
that the class was only an excuse for frustrated old women to spend the night
gawking at a scantily clad young man.
Like Michael before him, Clark was wearing only a rather brief black
Speedo, one that did more to enhance his maleness than conceal it. Also like
his predecessor, the young man had a body that while quite athletic was not
muscle-bound. He assumed the pose Madeline directed him to, looking quite
comfortable and almost unaware of all the eyes upon him.
"Still wish you'd stayed home and watched reruns?" Patricia whispered
to Claire about the half way through the class.
"What?" Claire replied, seemingly startled by the question.
"You've been staring at him for at least a half hour," Patricia smiled,
"and there's almost nothing on your drawing pad."
Claire looked down at her easel as if seeing it for the first time, and sure
enough, it was nearly empty. Normally, by this point in a class, she was far
ahead of most of the other students.
"There's something about him," she whispered back.
"There certainly is," Patricia replied with a grin.
"No, I mean something familiar," Claire added.
"Familiar?"
"I think I know him," Claire explained. "I mean I think he was once in
one of my classes."
"Really?"
There had been so many students over the years, and so many names.
Added to the fact that she wasn't even sure if Clark was actually his real name.
Some models, she knew, used an alias to protect their privacy.
"Clark… Clark…" Claire repeated over and over in her mind, using an
old trick of added each letter of the alphabet to the name to see if it triggered
any memories. By the time she got to S, it did. "Clark Stuart," she said almost
too loud, drawing the attention of the woman on her other side.
Claire waited until the woman went back to her work, and then leaned
back over to Pat.
"Clark Stuart," she repeated, this time in a much lower voice. "From
about three or four years ago, and unless I'm remembering it wrong, he was in
one of your classes too."
"You know, now that you mention it, I think he was," Patricia said as she
tried to match the older version in front of them with the high school student she
remembered. "Well, he certainly has grown," she said wishfully as she finished
comparing the two images.
"Patricia!" Claire said, shocked that her friend would make a statement
like that, at least out loud.
"That's not what I meant, and you know it," Patricia protested in
innocence, "but now that you point it out, I'd have to say, not bad for a white
boy."
Claire just shook her head, hoping that none of the other women heard
the comment. Then again, as she now also found herself looking more
attentively, it was a statement that she was sure that most of them would agree
with.
Claire spent the rest of the class trying to concentrate on putting some
semblance of effort into her canvas, at least enough to say she hadn't spent the
whole time staring at Clark. It turned out to be an effort with little success.
When she wasn't staring at Clark and that part of anatomy hidden and at
the same time highlighted by his attire, she kept stealing glances at Patricia and
wondering what was going through her friend's mind. Her fellow teacher was
making no effort at all to disguise her attention to the young model, and had
given up on trying to put down anything on her drawing pad.
Claire then found herself thinking back about a year and a half, to a
night time presentation at their own school. When it was over, Patricia and her
student teacher, a nice red-headed kid named Timothy Dugan, had stayed
behind to clean up. Halfway to the bus stop, Claire had begun to feel a little
guilty about having left the two of them to do so and turned back to lend a hand.
When she got back to the small auditorium, she didn't see either one of them but
it was obvious from the still empty storage boxes that they weren't done.
The sound of a metal chair hitting the floor off in the side corridor drew
her attention and, thinking they were putting the chairs away first, Claire picked
up two chairs of her own and went off in that direction. No sooner had she
turned the corner, she was greeting with a sight that almost made her drop both
of the chairs in her arms.
"Oh my God!" Claire exclaimed breathlessly, hoping as she did that it
hadn't been loud enough for them to have heard her.
She needn't have worried because, when she thought about it later, she
doubted they had even heard the loud clang of the chair they had accidentally
knocked over. Claire knew she should get out of there as quickly as she could,
but like a motorist passing an accident, she just couldn't look away.
Patricia was propped up against one of the stacks of folded metal tables
along the wall, the bottom of her dress hiked up around her waist, while the top
was merely hanging loose, enough to expose her ample breasts. Timothy was
standing between her legs, his pants down around his ankles. There was no
question as to what they were doing.
Claire watched in shocked fascination as the skinny twenty year old
slammed his cock in and out of the much larger black woman, causing her to
wrap her legs around him while at the same time loudly and quite descriptively
exhorting him to fuck her harder and faster. Strangely enough, that her fellow
teacher was royally screwing her half-her-age assistant didn't seem as out of
place to the art teacher as the discovery that despite a masters degree in
English, Patricia reverted, in the throes of passion, to a vocabulary more
common to a dockside streetwalker.
The brunette was sure she had been standing there watching for
minutes, yet in reality barely a full one had passed since she first turned the
corner. As quietly as she could, Claire backtracked her steps and carefully put
the two chairs back where she had found them. When she was well on her way
back to the bus stop, she wondered why she had been so shocked. After all,
despite his junior status, Timothy was of legal age, while Patricia was certainly
twice that and more. Also, Pat wasn't involved with anyone else at the time,
Benjamin Brown being several months still in her future. By the time she was
safely on the bus and headed home, Claire finally realized what it was she had
actually felt. It had been envy. Despite being in the good years of her
relationship with David at the time, Claire felt a bit of envy at her friend's sense
of adventure.
"Well, that's all the time we have for tonight," Madeline said, much too
soon. "As I mentioned last week, we have to wrap it up a bit early tonight."
Few of the students felt that even an abbreviated class hadn't been well
worth it and if any did, they didn't express the thought verbally. Across the room
they began to clean up their stations and gather up their tools. Clark had already
exited once the class once it had been declared over, so with no further
distraction it didn't take long for most of them to finish.
"A few of us are going over to the Blue Room to have a drink," Patricia
said as she helped Claire finish her clean up. "Want to come along?"
"No, I think I'll just take the bus home and call it a night," Claire said
after thinking about it for a moment. "I'm a bit tired."
"Are you sure?" Patricia asked.
"Yeah," Claire assured her.
All right, suit yourself," Patricia smiled, thinking it would've been nice if
Claire had come along, but also knowing when not to push.
Claire walked out of the school with Patricia and watched as she and a
few other classmates climbed into the borrowed car. She wondered for a few
moments if maybe she should change her mind and go with them; after all, what
was she going home to? Then she decided to go with her original decision and
merely waved goodnight to them all as Patricia drove the car past her. Once
they were out of sight, Claire headed off in the other direction towards the bus
stop.
-=-=-=-
As luck would have it, Claire just missed the bus and according to the
schedule on the kiosk, it would be a half hour before the next one. Still, it was a
relatively pleasant night, and there was plenty of light from the overhead lamp to
read by. So she just took her book from her bag and made herself comfortable
on the bench. Quickly involved in her book, the first ten minutes passed quickly.
"Mrs. Ryan?"
Concentrating on her book, Claire didn't hear, at least not at first, the
young man who had walked up to the edge of the bus stop kiosk. Especially
since he had called her by a name she hadn't gone by in the last few years.
"Mrs. Ryan?" he repeated once he had moved to only a few feet away.
Claire finally looked up to see, dressed in jeans, sneakers, a t-shirt and a
windbreaker, a much more fully dressed Clark Stuart standing before her.
"Excuse me, but you are Mrs. Ryan, aren't you," he asked again, a
slight hesitation in his voice as he wondered if perhaps he'd made a mistake.
"Mrs. Claire Ryan from the Pine Ridge School?"
Embarrassed at the thought that he might have caught her staring at him
during the class, Claire considered the idea of saying he had indeed been
mistaken. Then she realized that would be the coward's way out and unfair to a
young man who obviously had gone out of his way to say hello.
"Not for a number of years," she smiled and said instead, recalling that
it was only after she had begun seeing David, or more precisely started sleeping
with him, that she had gone back to her maiden name. Once people at the
school became aware of their relationship, the last thing she wanted anyone
thinking was that she was still a married woman, fooling around on an absent
husband. "I mean I haven't been Mrs. Ryan for a number of years," she
clarified. "I'm still at the Pine Ridge School. It's Miss Roselli now I'm no longer
married."
"Clark Stuart," the young man said, relieved that he hadn't been wrong
after all. "I don't think you'd remember me, but I was in your art appreciation
class a few years back."
"Of course I remember you, Clark," Claire said, wondering as she did so
if he'd noticed her in class or just happened to recognize her as he walked past
and saw her sitting there. "It's nice to see you again," she added, thinking
afterwards how odd that might've sounded if his recognition had been from the
latter.
The answer to her unspoken question came a moment later when Clark
said he'd noticed her in the class, but since it was impossible to get a good look
at her he hadn't been sure. By the time he'd gotten dressed and come back into
the classroom, she was already gone. It was only luck that he'd seen her sitting
on the bench as he passed it on the way to his car in the parking lot beyond.
Reasoning that if he hadn't gotten a good look at her in class, it was
doubtful that he had any idea how much time she had spent staring at him,
Claire decided to just take it from here and move forward. She said it was a
small world and asked if he was taking classes here at the college.
"No, I'm over at State now," Clark said, alluding to the senior school just
a few miles away. "I graduated from here last year."
"And you still come back here just to model?" Claire asked out of
curiosity.
"Not really, I mean I used to do it when I was a student, it beat all hell
out of working over at the local Burger Barn. Mrs. Petrowski was good to me
when I was here, and when she called and asked if I could do it for a few nights I
really couldn't say no."
"That was very nice of you," Claire said.
"It's no big thing," Clark insisted. "It's just a couple of hours a week and
I pick up a few extra dollars."
Realizing that the bus would be along soon, Claire said that it was
indeed nice to see him again but that she didn't want to keep him from wherever
he was on his way to when he spotted her on the bench.
"I really had no plans other than to grab a cup of coffee at the diner
down the road," Clark replied. "My roommate sort of has our dorm room
reserved for the evening."
Claire smiled, remembering what that was all about from her own
college years.
"You know, I just had a thought," Clark said. "If you don't have any
plans at the moment, why don't you join me for that cup of coffee? I'd be more
than happy to drive you home afterwards."
The offer took Claire by surprise, so much so that she didn't say no right
away, as she normally would have. As a general rule of thumb, teachers didn't
socialize with students. Still, there was no reason why that should apply to
former ones. It might be interesting, she considered, to hear how one of her
former charges was making out. What happens to students after they moved on
was a question teachers often asked but rarely got an answer to.
"You might not believe it," Claire smiled, "but that's the best offer I've
gotten all week."
"I find that hard to believe," Clark smiled back, "but I'm glad you said
yes."
It was a short walk to Clark's car, and an even shorter ride to the diner.
Once there, however, they discovered that the establishment was closed for
reasons not stated on the sign on the front door.
"Well, that's just great," Clark said as saw the sign, a measure of
disappointment in his tone.
"I guess there's nothing we can do about it," Claire said, remembering
that there was not another place to get coffee at this time of the night anywhere
in the area. "Why don't you just give me a ride back to the bus stop?"
"You have to have missed the bus you were waiting for by now," Clark
replied, "and I'm not going to just leave you to wait for the next one. I said I'd
give you a lift home and I will."
Claire hadn't wanted to admit it, but she hadn't been looking forward to
going back to the bus stop and waiting another half hour or more. So she was
relieved to hear that his offer of a ride home still stood.
Since the diner had only been five minutes in the other direction, it took
just that much longer for Claire to get home than it did to get to the college in the
first place. Clark pulled up right in front of the door and was lucky enough to find
a parking spot that someone must've just pulled out of.
"Thank you once again for the ride," Claire said as she picked up her
purse from the floor below her seat.
"Think nothing of it," Clark smiled. "I'm just sorry that we didn't have a
chance to get that cup of coffee and talk."
Claire was about to say that, yes, it was indeed a shame, but somehow it
came out that if he'd like to come up, she'd be happy to make them both a cup
of coffee.
"Are you sure?" Clark asked, genuinely surprised at the offer. "I
wouldn't want to put you to any trouble."
"No trouble at all," Claire replied, the smile on her face not reflecting the
fact that she was more surprised that she had made the offer than Clark was to
have received it.
-=-=-=-
"Make yourself comfortable while I put the coffee on," Claire said once
they were inside the apartment, as she took his jacket, hanging it and her own
coat on the rack. Heading for the kitchenette, she pointed out the couch in the
living area where he could take a seat. "Regular okay for you?" she asked as
she remembered that she had already set up the coffee maker for the next
morning, but would have to add a bit to it for her guest. "If not, I think I might
still have some specialty blends up in the closet."
"Regular would be just fine," Clark replied as he sat himself down on the
sofa, taking a quick look around the tiny apartment as he did. Small as it was,
just three and a half rooms, it was nevertheless quite cozy. A lot more than his
single room dorm.
"Coffee will be up in a few minutes," Claire announced as she walked
into the living area, carrying a small tray of cookies that she placed on the coffee
table. "While we wait, I want you to tell me all about what you've been doing
since you graduated from Pine Ridge.
Saying at first that there really wasn't all that much to tell, Clark then
went into the story of how, after graduating from high school, he really had no
idea what he wanted to do with his life. His father had suggested that he take
some time to think about it, but also make use of the interlude to take some
courses at the local community college. If nothing else, it would let him pick up
most of the prerequisites that he would need for any course of study he finally
decided on. Somewhere along the way, while attending the junior college, he
became interested in sports medicine and that was what he was now studying at
State.
His story ended just as the timer on the coffee maker went off and Claire
excused herself to take care of it, declining Clark's offer to help. When she sat
back down with another tray bearing two steaming mugs, along with milk and
sugar, Clark inquired as to what she'd been up to since he'd left the school.
After pouring a small amount of milk and sugar into her coffee - Clark
had declined both - Claire let it cool a moment before bringing it to her lips and
taking a careful sip. The pause gave her time to consider what she wanted to
say. By the time the mug was back on the table, she'd already begun a rather
bland account of the last few years, leaving out any mention of her relationship
with David Byrnes. The exclusion was noticeable enough to cause Clark to ask
if, since she wasn't married anymore, there was anyone special in her life. Not
the sort of question she had expected, but one that was understandable enough,
given her omission.
"Let's just say that there used to be, but he's gone now too," Claire said
after a momentary hesitation. Then she turned the question around and asked
the same of him, adding that a good looking young man like him must have half
the girls at State chasing after him.
"Well, a few at least," Clark laughed as he helped himself to one of the
cookies, "but nothing I'd really consider serious."
"That's probably for the best," Claire remarked as she took a cookie as
well, "at least at this point in your life. As your former teacher I probably
shouldn't be saying it, but it's good to sow a few wild oats when you're young."
"Oh I do when I can," Clark said with a chuckle, "at least when I can
find someone who really interests me."
"Oh really?" Claire replied with the same sort of amusement. "And what
sort of girl is it that interests you?"
"I wouldn't say there was any particular sort," Clark answered as he took
another sip of coffee. "I've always thought that if you only looked for one
particular type you lost out on so many interesting possibilities."
Claire wondered what he considered an interesting possibility but
thought it best not to ask.
The clock on the mantle chimed the hour, causing Clark to turn his head
in that direction and note the time. Like most of his generation, he didn't wear a
watch, relying instead on his cell phone if he needed to know the time.
"It's getting late," he pointed out, "maybe I should get going."
"Nonsense, it's hardly late at all," Claire insisted. "Besides, I don't think
it would be exactly fair to your roommate and the young lady he's entertaining
for you to show up back at the dorm too early."
What Claire didn't say was that she was remembering a time when her
own college roommate had an invited guest and she came home at what she
thought was a late enough hour, but instead found herself locked out of the dorm
room. She had wound up sleeping on the couch in the common room. Yet, no
sooner had that thought passed than she noticed a subtle smile on Clark's face,
one that made her wonder as to the cause.
"Did I say something funny?" she asked.
"No, I was just thinking of something," Clark replied.
"Care to share so that I can enjoy the joke too?"
"Well, I guess it doesn't matter if I do because it's not exactly a secret,"
Clark said after thinking about it a moment. "It's not a girl that my roommate is
entertaining."
"Oh?" Claire responding in a tone that stated she didn't understand.
"Oh!" she repeated a moment later in a much more knowing tone as
understanding hit her.
She duplicated Clark's smile with the thought that things certainly had
changed since she was in college.
"Isn't that a bit awkward?" she asked, saying the first thing that came to
mind. "I mean the two of you having such opposite interests, as it were."
"What you really mean is, don't I find it awkward rooming with a guy
who's gay," Clark said, "and don't I worry that people will figure that I'm into
guys too?"
Claire didn't want to admit it, but as soon as the words had come out of
her mouth she knew that was exactly what she had been thinking. She
apologized and said that she had no business asking anything like that.
"It's okay, people are always thinking that, even if they don't come out
and ask, but if they do, I don't mind," Clark replied. "First of all, Bobby, that's
his name by the way, and I had been sharing a room for almost a year before he
decided to come out of the closet. He told me of his decision a month before he
did it, in case I wanted to get out ahead of the storm and request alternate
accommodation. I did think about it, but decided in the end that the two of us
had been getting along great and in my mind his revelation wasn't going to
change that. If someone has a problem with it, well, it's on them, not me."
"You're a good man, Clark Stuart," Claire said, her opinion of him rising
a few notches.
Without any decision actually having been made that he would stay
longer, Claire excused herself and picked up both empty mugs, carrying them
back to the countertop. As she refilled them with what was left in the carafe, she
found herself thinking that it was a pity that Clark wasn't a few years older and
herself a few younger.
"I have to give you a lot of credit, Clark," Claire said as she sat back
down with the refilled mugs. "Not for what you just told me, although I am
impressed by that, but also by how you can just get up in front of so many
people like you did tonight. I was never that self-confident, not even back in
college. Especially wearing not much of anything."
"It's nothing more than what anyone would wear to the beach," Clark
pointed out as he took a sip from the new cup.
"I think we have a very different opinion of what's proper beach wear,"
Claire smiled. "I'd look pretty ridiculous in some of the swim suits I've seem
young ladies wear nowadays."
"Well, I think you'd look great no matter what you wore," Clark retorted
with an equally wide smile.
"Flattering an old lady like that could be dangerous," Claire laughed,
wondering as she did if she felt the need to again point out the difference in their
ages was for him or for herself.
"Well, if I see one anytime soon I'll be sure to remember that," Clark
grinned.
"Keep talking like that and I'll begin to think you're trying to flirt with me,"
Claire said in the same whimsical tone.
"Would it be such a bad thing if I was?" Clark said without pause, in a
voice just a bit more serious than he's been using.
If Claire noticed the difference, she let it pass without comment.
The conversation went on in different directions and before long they
were trading jokes and observations about people they remembered or those
merely common to the experience of both. Thinking back, she didn't remember
Clark as being this bright and witty in her class, but then again, it really wasn't
the sort of thing a teacher might have noticed. Especially with her attention
divided among a classroom full of students.
The ease in which they moved from topic to topic made Claire relax even more.
So much so that when the discussion again wound its way back to what she'd
been doing the last few years, her answers became much more forthcoming, this
time including her relationship with David Byrd and its disastrous outcome.
"I don't remember Mr. Byrd," Clark said as he put his now empty mug
down on the table. "I mean I remember him as a teacher, but I wasn't in any of
his classes. So I really don't remember what he was like. But from what you've
said, he must've been a real asshole."
Claire's surprise at the level of resentment in the young man's tone
must've been reflected in her face, because Clark was quick to apologize.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that," he offered. "Regardless of what I
think, he was someone you cared about."
"No, he was an asshole," Claire assured him, "and trust me, I've
thought of him since in much less flattering terms since he walked out on me."
"I just can't imagine anyone giving up a woman as smart and beautiful
as you," Clark said, causing Claire to blush.
Another change Claire had become aware of over the course of their
discourse was that she no longer thought of Clark as that boy from her class. It
was now impossible to think of him as anything but a man, younger yes, but a
grown man. That admission caused her to remember the image of him in his
swimming trucks back in class, along with Patricia's comment about it. A
comment that now brought curiosity rather than embarrassment. As she swirled
Patricia's observation around in her thoughts, Claire also found herself
remembering the mental picture of her friend and the student teacher in quite
graphic detail.
"What's so funny?" she heard Clark ask.
"What?" Claire asked in turn, not understanding what he was talking
about.
"I asked what was so funny," Clark repeated. "You had the biggest
smile I've ever seen on your face, and I was wondering what you were thinking
about."
"It was nothing," Claire lied.
"It had to be something to make you smile like that," Clark said,
reminding her that he had given her an honest answer when she had asked the
same question of him a short time before.
"It was just a silly thought," she finally said, "nothing that you'd be
interested in."
"You'd be surprised at what I find interesting," Clark said, his own face
now also filled with a broad smile.
"I dare say I would," Claire thought with a grin but didn't say out loud.
What she also didn't say was that there was now no denying the fact that
she was treading on dangerous ground. In her mind, the age gap between the
two of them had diminished in a relatively short period, to the point where what
had begun as a perfectly harmless conversation over coffee had now reached
the potential to be something quite different. If it had only been a matter of
some friendly flirting that would've been one thing, but Claire knew it was
becoming more than that, that she was letting her hormones get out of control.
Not surprising, she would later consider, seeing that she hadn't had sex in over a
year - the occasional encounter with the battery powered lover in her nightstand
notwithstanding.
"Maybe it is getting late," Claire said, throwing a figurative bucket of
cold water over her head.
"Oh," Clark said, disappointment evident in his tone. "Well at least let
me help you clean up," he quickly recovered to offer.
"No need, I'll just put it all in the sink and take care of it in the morning,"
Claire replied, judging, from her own sense of disappointment that the night was
ending, that she had brought it to a close none too soon.
Lifting the tray with the mugs and accouterments, Claire rose and carried
them all into the kitchen, laying it into the sink. Clark followed with what was left
of the cookies, laying that tray on the adjacent countertop. He once more
offered to clean out the cups but was again declined.
"I really did enjoy your company tonight, Clark," Claire said as she led
him back into the living area and lifted his jacket off the hook where she had
hung it. "In fact, I don't remember the last time I enjoyed simple coffee and
conversation this much."
Actually she did remember, but those times had involved David and
inevitably led to the bedroom. An outcome which doubtlessly colored her
remembrance of them.
"I enjoyed it too," Clark replied as he took his jacket from her, but just
held it in his hand rather than put it on. "Maybe we can do it again sometime."
Claire replied with a noncommittal perhaps they might.
Taking the few steps further to the door, Claire felt a fleeting uncertainty
as to how she should say goodnight. Normally, in the case of a friend, she would
do so with a hug, sometimes coupled with a chaste kiss on the cheek. For more
casual acquaintances, a simple handshake usually sufficed. Thinking about it,
Clark certainly fell more into the second category, yet shaking his hand as if this
had been a business meeting seemed rather cold - or worse, indifferent.
She leaned toward him and placed her left hand on his arm, thinking she
would forego the hug and just go with the kiss on the cheek. Recognizing the
motion, Clark tuned his head to expose her intended target, only to be quite
surprised when she brought up her other hand and turned his head so as to plant
her lips directly on his instead.
The press of her lips took the young man by surprise, but not so much
so that it took him more than a heartbeat to begin to respond. The windbreaker
fell from his hand as he brought both of his own arms up and wrapped them
around her. He felt the tip of her tongue brush against his mouth and he opened
to admit it, reaching out with his own to share a mutual caress.
It seemed like the kiss lasted a long time, but in actuality it only lasted as
long as any other. It took a long moment after it had ended for either of them to
realize that it had. In the end, it was Clark that reacted first.
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," he said even before she had reopened her
eyes, ignoring the fact that she had been the one that had initiated the kiss. "I
know I shouldn't have done that, but I was so curious as to what it might be like, I
just couldn't help myself."
There was a touch of panic in his voice, and Claire quickly surmised that
he thought the focus of her kiss had somehow been an accident, one that he had
taken advantage of.
"Clark, calm down," Claire said in a reassuring tone, fearful that he was
about to work himself into more of a panic. "It's okay," she added, speaking at a
pace in which her own words began to outrace her thoughts."
"It is?" he said, the initial alarm subsiding.
"That wasn't an accident," she added in the same calm voice. "I guess I
was a bit curious too, even if I didn't know it until the last second."
"You were?" he said.
"Yes," she smiled broadly, "and now that it's done I have to say I rather
enjoyed it."
"You did?" Clark asked, his original panic now replaced by surprise,
again ignoring the fact that her tongue had been as active as his during the
exchange.
"Is there a reason I shouldn't have?" Claire asked in turn, knowing that
there had to be at least half a dozen reasons why she shouldn't have, even if she
couldn't think of one right now.
"I'm just glad you're not angry," Clark said, unsure what else he could
say.
"So how was it?" Claire asked, ignoring his last comment.
"Excuse me," Clark said.
"I asked how was it," she repeated. "You said you were curious about
what it might have been like. So was it all that you thought it might be, or was it
something of a disappointment?"
"Definitely not a disappointment," he replied, his face turning a bright
shade of red, betraying thoughts much more intense.
"So now your curiosity is satisfied?" Claire asked, the flush of his face
giving her the answer even as she asked the question.
"I don't understand," Clark replied.
"I was just wondering if there was anything else you were curious about,"
Claire clarified.
"I…I'm not sure…" Clark stammered, taken slightly back by the sudden
change in Claire's attitude.
Even while Clark struggled with his answer, part of Claire's mind was
also engaged in a small struggle of its own. She knew there was a significant
chance that she was misreading this situation, but on the possibility that she
wasn't, she didn't want to wake up tomorrow morning regretting not having, as
Patricia was fond of saying, gone for it.
The continuing hesitancy in Clark's voice told her he was still unsure
how to respond, but that in itself gave her the courage to continue. She had
indeed let her hormones take control, but for the first time in over a year she
didn't necessarily view that as a bad thing.
"I guess what I'm trying to ask," Claire said after taking a deep breath
and step closer, "is if this is what you would consider an interesting possibility?"
With that she slipped one arm around his neck and pulled him tight
against her for another kiss. From the way Clark instantly responded this time,
she had to conclude that, yes, indeed it was.
-=-=-=-
In less than a dozen heartbeats the two of them were back on the couch,
where they proceeded to make out like a couple of junior high school kids. Their
mouths pressed together and their tongues intertwined, even as Clark quickly
began to undo the row of buttons that ran down Claire's blouse. At the same
time, Claire brought the flat of her hand down between his legs, coming to rest
on the hardness found there, massaging it through his jeans.
It was quickly becoming clear to Claire that even if he wasn't aware of it,
Clark had a thing for older women. There was no other way to explain his
excitement. Many teenage boys, she'd learned in her years as a teacher,
developed such attractions, but for most they remained nothing more than
unrequited fantasies. Youthful dreams that eventually faded with adulthood and
the availability of more real and accessible partners. Clark, it seemed, was one
of the exceptions to the rule. If it explained nothing else, it made it clear why he
enjoyed posing for the middle aged students of Mrs. Petrowski's art class so
much.
As the last of her buttons gave way, Claire was also reminded that few
teachers didn't have, at some point in their career, at least one sexual fantasy
about a student - even if it had only been in their most secret, unspoken
thoughts. Claire was honest enough with herself to admit there had been more
than one over the years. She couldn't say if she recalled any particular one that
might have been influenced by Clark back when he sat in her class, but he
certainly had been representative of the type of young man that sometimes sent
her mind wandering on a lonely night.
The touch of his hand as it passed between the now open folds of her
blouse put an end to the last of Claire's musings. She let out a quiet sigh as
Clark's finger slipped under the plain white material of her bra and stroked her
nipple, quickly bringing it to a firm hardness. His other hand soon did the same,
and he squeezed the rounded globes with a soft pressure.
Reaching back and under her blouse, Claire undid the clasp of her bra,
causing it to fall open, with only the thin shoulder straps keeping it from falling
off. Clark continued to gently massage her flesh, even as he leaned forward and
kissed her once more.
He then kissed her on the nape of her neck, then across her shoulders,
leaving a trail of wetness down to the shallow valley between her breasts. Clark
lifted his hand and took a few moments to appreciate the newly exposed
treasure, admiring every little imperfection that made them unique.
Claire let out an even louder moan as Clark's mouth closed first on her
left breast, then her right. Each nipple getting special attention, his tongue
caressing it carefully before guiding it between his lips and into his mouth. At
times like this, Claire always wished her breasts were bigger, more impressive,
but that didn't seem to be a view Clark shared. Still, Clark didn't seem to have a
problem with them. The way he lavished attention on them, you could almost
think he had ever seen a naked breast, much less actually touched one. It made
Claire feel indeed like that junior high school girl who had just taken off her bra
with a boy for the very first time.
As Claire thrilled to the soft wetness of his mouth against her flesh, Clark
was already moving a step ahead, as one free hand glided down her legs until it
passed the edge of her skirt. Then he brought it back up, pushing the skirt up to
her waist, then back down again, slipping it under the elastic band of her panties.
By touch alone, he quickly brought his fingers to the damp mound and
ran the tips up and down across it. With practiced skill, he slipped first one, then
two and finally three fingers inside of her, finding the walls within already well
lubricated by her anticipation. Slowly at first, they moved in and out, picking up
the pace with each repetition. Tiny ripples of delight, growing in strength, began
to wash across her body.
"Oh God, Clark, yes!" Claire heard herself cry out.
Until this moment, Claire didn't realize how badly she missed the touch
of another hand, but the proof came in how quickly her body responded to his
rapid thrusts. It what had to be a record, at least for her, she raced to the verge
of orgasm and with a tidal wave of desire, crossed that frontier with spasming
fury.
"Yes, yes, oh yes!" Claire repeated over and over, reveling in the force
of the climax overtaking her. It was her first orgasm not by her own hand in a
very long time, and it had been sorely missed.
As the waves of gratification began to slowly but finally subside, Claire
became all too aware of what she had just done. She'd had sex, regardless of
the limited nature of it, with a former student. Given that he was well over the
age of consent, there hadn't been any illegality to the act, but she was sure there
had to have been some sort of immorality in there somewhere.
"Is something wrong?" Clark asked in response to the sudden look of
concern that had replaced the one of bliss on her face.
"I…" Claire started to say, then decided that she was being foolish. The
only immorality, she told herself, would be to let an opportunity like this to pass
by. "No, nothing's wrong," she said as she concentrated on banishing any
doubts. "It's just been a while, that's all."
Clark's own look of concern turned back to one of joy as he leaned
forward and kissed Claire again, pleased when she responded in kind.
"Why don't we move this to the bedroom where we can be more
comfortable?" Claire said, putting the last shreds of hesitation behind her.
-=-=-=-
The bedroom was only half the size of her living room, but all that
mattered to the two of them as they raced inside was the twin sized bed up
against the far wall. Claire sat Clark down on the side of the bed, then took a
step back, lifting each leg behind her as she slid off her flat shoes and tossed
them to the side. After that, her hands moved to the small buttons on the side of
her skirt and once they were undone, it was a simple thing to slide the denim
garment down her legs. Her panties followed right behind, leaving Claire just as
she came into this world some forty years before.
"Well," she said, striking a playful pose, stretching her legs apart and
placing one hand on her hip and brushing back her hair with the other. "What do
you think?"
"I think you look magnificent," Clark said as he began to reach for the
bottom of his own shirt.
"No!" Claire said abruptly, causing him to stop in mid-motion. "Leave it
on," she said in a calmer voice, "just for a little bit."
Unsure as to why but happy to oblige, Clark let his hand fall back to his
side as Claire took a small step toward him, shaking her hips provocatively as
she did so. She cupped her breasts and squeezed them tight, rubbing her
nipples with the tip of her thumps. She felt so incredibly sexy at the moment,
and wanted to put on as much of a show for her young lover as she could.
Taking another step in his direction, she continued to play one hand
across her breasts while the other worked its way down across her stomach until
it reached between her legs. She pressed two fingers deep inside herself,
rubbing them against her wet canal until they were slick enough to shine in the
overhead lighting when she withdrew them. Lifting her hand up to her mouth,
she reached out with her tongue and licked both fingers before slipping them
between her lips to suck them clean.
Another step brought her up against Clark's legs as she placed the
outstretched palms of her hand on his shoulders and pressed him down on the
mattress. Once he was flat on his back, she brought her hand down to his waist
and took hold of the bottom edge of his shirt, pushing it upward until it exposed
his chest. Her fingers darted across his hairless skin, stopping when they
reached his nipples so that she could caress them slowly. Clark let out a small
sigh, enjoying the stroke of her fingertips. Finally, she ran her hands back under
his shirt and with a little help from Clark, lifted it up and over his head. The shirt
was then tossed back over her shoulders to land on the floor behind her.
Claire leaned across his prone form, her hanging breasts brushing
against his chest as her hands made their way up to his shoulder blades.
Bringing her body to rest against his side, she kissed her way across his upper
body, taking care to tease his nipples with her tongue. One hand traveled down
his exposed side, tickling the soft skin as it went. Her other hand worked its way
behind his neck and up against the back of his head, lifting it just enough so that
when she brought her face up to his, their lips could meet.
In a repeat performance of their time on the couch, Clark and Claire
traded kisses, with Claire alternating hers between his mouth and upper chest.
At the same time, she brought the hand that had been caressing his side down
between his legs, cupping the hardness beneath his jeans and again rubbing it.
The press of it against her palm brought a smile to her face, as well as an
appreciation of its dimensions as she judged it against the size of her hand.
Continuing to play with his cock through his pants, Claire kissed and
licked her way down across his stomach, stopping only when she reached the
top of his jeans. Raising her head, she ran her hands up and down his chest one
last time, then undid the snap of his jeans and the zipper below it. Once his
pants were loose, Claire pulled herself all the way back off the bed and in quick
order, took off his sneakers, socks, and then finally his jeans themselves. All
were tossed to the floor next to his shirt.
As this all went on, Clark was content to just lay back and enjoy it all.
He had never been stripped by a woman before and he couldn't help but wonder
what surprises were in store for him next.
He didn't have long to wait as Claire again climbed back onto the bed
alongside him and once more ran her fingers against the outline of his cock.
The hard organ beneath his briefs jumped at her touch, bringing a smile to Clark
and a soft chuckle from Claire.
"I think he wants to come out and play," she laughed, just before she
grabbed the side of his underpants and pulled them all of the way down.
Now it was Claire's turn to be surprised, for when she exposed Clark's
manhood, she never expected it to be as bare as his chest. Even his balls were
totally shaved. Aside from changing diapers on other people's kids, the only
time Claire had ever seen a hairless cock was when she and George Rivers had
played a round of "I'll show you mine if you'll show me yours" back in grade
school. Seeing as George had only been ten at the time, this was definitely an
improvement.
Claire took Clark's hard cock in one hand and guided it to her mouth.
Gently she kissed the head of it, running her tongue over and then under the
thick helmet shaped top. From there her tongue worked its way down his length,
washing across his balls before she took each of them, in turn, as far into her
mouth as far she could.
"Oh God!" Claire heard Clark gasp as he stretched his body back on the
bed, savoring every sweet touch of her lips and tongue on his highly responsive
skin.
She continued playing with him for a few more minutes, then brought her
head back high enough to reach the top of his cock, kissing it once last time
before taking its full length deep down her throat.
"Oh God!" Clark called out even louder as the rich wetness of her mouth
engulfed his cock.
Pleased with his reaction, Claire went right to work, her head bopping up and
down as she deep throated him time and again. Not to let her hands be idle, one
was wrapped tightly around the base of his manhood, applying enough pressure
to keep him from climaxing too soon. The other reached under his balls and
tickled the even more sensitive flesh found there. At times, Claire would play
with a man's ass while she gave him head, but she was unsure how Clark might
react to that. Better to just concentrate on what she was doing she decided.
And it was obvious from his reaction that Clark was quite satisfied with what she
was doing. Holding his cock tightly, Claire continued to alternate pumping it
back and forth into her mouth with letting it fall free so that she could just gently
run her tongue alongside it. Experience again proved true, and it wasn't that
long before Clark could feel the pressure inside himself building to the bursting
point.
A point he reached only a few heartbeats later, announced by a loud groan of
satisfaction. At the last second, just before Clark exploded, Claire took his cock
as deep as she could, savoring his eruptions and swallowing each burst with
enthusiasm. It wasn't until she finally felt the cock in her mouth start to soften
that she released her grip and let it slip free from her mouth.
Climbing up into a sitting position, she lifted Clark into a similar pose and gave
him one of the most passionate kisses she had ever given anyone. He hadn't
even flinched at the aftertaste of his climax on her tongue, which, even though
he had no way of knowing it, was good, because having a man freak out at that
was one of the quickest ways to make Claire lose interest.
Lack of interest was hardly the problem in this case as Clark was eager to return
the delights Claire had just shared with him. He helped Claire up against the
headboard, shifting the pillows so that she could sit against them. Then he
dropped lower on the bed, lifting her leg high so that he could slide in between
her legs. Lowering that leg behind him, Claire stretched both legs wide to give
him a clear view of his objective.
As she watched him study her lightly haired sex, Claire wondered if Clark was
disappointed that it wasn't shaven like his own. A lot of women, mostly younger
than herself, she knew, kept that area smooth and clean. On that subject she
needn't have worried, as Clark was actually excited by a natural bush, especially
that of an older woman. He placed one hand up against it, gently rubbing it up
and down. His head moved in for a closer look as Claire lifted her arms back
behind her head and made herself as comfortable as she could.
Parting the folds of her pussy with his fingers, Clarks reached out with the tip of
his tongue and ran it up and down the length of her sex. The taste and scent of
her filled him, acting like the most powerful aphrodisiac. Again and again his
tongue disappeared deep inside of her, each time making contact with the most
sensitive of spots. Contacts that sent electric sparks racing across her body,
stoking a steadily rising flame.
Laying back and enjoying the attention, Claire considered that she'd known men
twice Clark's age that had gone down on her with less than half his exuberance.
What he might have lacked in skill, and there was little reason for her to
complain there, he more than made up for in vigor. Every once and a while, she
would offer a quiet word of encouragement, or even direction. After which,
Claire was happy to see Clark taking both to heart and acting accordingly.
Grasping her breasts, Claire stroked them gently as Clark continued to give her
oral satisfactions. His hand joined his tongue, sliding in and out of her like a tiny
cock, a small predecessor of what was to come. Still, before it did, Claire was
treated to a second, small orgasm that, like the first, filled her with a pleasing
warmth that touched every inch of her body.
"That was even nicer than the first one," Claire softly said as the last of the tiny
tremors subsided.
But Clark was unwilling to simply settle for nice. Youth had its advantages, and
Claire was about to benefit from one of them. Easing himself once more aside
and then behind her, Clark took hold of his once more hard cock and placed the
head of it against her pussy. He rubbed it up and down her length, covering its
tip with a thick coating of Claire's natural lubrication. Then, with a slow but
steady press forward, he slipped his cock deep inside her, until it was completely
buried.
"Oh yes," Claire gasped as she felt him enter her, a feeling absent much too
long. Of course she had her little toy in the night table, but for her at least,
nothing was ever going to replace flesh and blood.
Slowly at first, but then with an increasing tempo, Clark moved his cock in and
out of her pussy. It didn't take long for the reemergence of those forces that had
caused Claire's prior orgasms, but this time they seemed multiplied ten-fold.
Even as she moaned her satisfaction, her body quickly copied his rhythm,
meeting each thrust of his cock with one of her own.
Back and forth they went, rocking the bed with their exertions and covering their
bodies with the sweat of their effort. They formed a well oiled machine, his cock
a driving piston, filling the core of her engine with ever increasing speed. On
and on they went, with time seeming to slow down to the point where each
second was like a minute, each minute like and hour.
Claire's moans grew in volume and frequency, her body slamming against his to
meet each new entry. She drew him as deep inside herself as she could,
releasing him only with the promise of his return less than a heartbeat later.
Reaching around her, Clark cupped her right breast, squeezing it tightly as he
continued to press inside her. Claire once more cried out her encouragement,
tilting her head far enough back for them to meet in a brief kiss.
That pause was enough to break the tempo and Clark slipped out of her.
Quickly he grabbed his cock and brought it back to his goal, even as Claire
brought her hands down and used them to open her gates of heaven as wide as
she good. Once back within her, the younger man quickly went back to the task
at hand, going so far as to drive forward with even greater ferocity.
"Fuck me, Clark," Claire moaned, "fuck me as hard as you can."
Those few words barely covered how greatly impressed Claire was with both the
strength and endurance her young lover was exhibiting. David, she knew,
would've given out long ago, and not even her former husband, who had been
no older than Clark when they had first met, ever brought her the delights that
now filled her quaking body.
Clark had lifted her right leg high, allowing him even deeper penetrations.
Claire in turn had placed a hand over her clit, adding her own efforts to the
heights she was experiencing. She knew she was oh so close to a shattering
orgasm, it would just take a little bit more to get her there.
She told Clark to get onto his back, and without even losing a stroke she rolled
right along with him. Now she was on top and with a driving passion she lifted
herself up and down on his cock, slamming it all the way inside her. Droplets of
sweat ran down along her quivering body as her breasts bounced with abandon.
She leaned back as Clark took hold of her waist, keeping her steady as she
again crashed down on top of him. His hands moved to her breasts, holding
them tightly as he fought to hold out against the forces she had unleashed in
both their bodies.
Claire lifted herself again, leaning just a bit forward as Clark dropped back
against the mattress. She was almost there, just a tiny bit further. Just a few
more strokes and…
The thought was never completed as she exploded with such force that she
almost feared she might black out. There wasn't a part of her body where she
didn't feel the power of her orgasm as she continued to drive onward, to bring
Clark along with her.
It was the only part of the battle that she was losing, but she was unwilling to
give up so easily. Raising her body off his cock, she reached down and grabbed
it with her hand, pumping it with all of the strength left in her. That extra effort
turned out to be all that was needed, as burst after burst of warm whiteness
exploded from his cock, splattering across her pussy and the area above. Now it
was Clark's turn to moan loudly as he enjoyed an orgasm that was more than
just a long anticipated release, it was the fulfillment of dreams.
It seemed like it would never stop, but it finally did and Claire looked down on
the puddle of white that covered her. She reached down and ran her hand
across it, then brought her hand once more up to her mouth where she could lick
it clean.
"That," she said once she regained her breath, "was great."
It was a sentiment that Clark could hardly argue with.
-=-=-=-
By the time morning came, Claire and Clark had made love two more
times, using every position they could come up with. Laying there in bed against
him, his eyes finally closed in sleep, the brunette couldn't recall a time when
she'd felt so gloriously exhausted. Whatever demons she bore only a morning
before had been totally exorcized, and only the bright future remained.
The passions of last night had been wonderful, but her head was still just
clear enough for her to admit that what she with Clark had shared was
something physical, not emotional. At least not enough of the latter to overcome
what she recognized as the difficulties of a real relationship between them.
Thankfully that was something that Clark has also expressed during one of their
recuperative breaks during the night.
Still, for the moment at least, the two of them were willing to make of it
what it was. As she closed her eyes and allowed herself to succumb to the
weariness that was finally winning out, Claire smiled at the thought that if nothing
else, Patricia wasn't going to have any trouble getting her to the art class.
"Interesting possibilities indeed," she told herself as she drifted off to
sleep.
END
(c) Ann Douglas 2011
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