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10-27-03, for Naïve
A little lesson for someone's birthday
Well, she’s done it again. The tables and the comfortably worn chairs are gone. In their place, for some as yet unexplained reason, she’s furnished the entire bar with school desks. Those seat-attached-to-the-desk-behind-you chairs reminiscent of schools days past. And, as it’s a Monday, the attitude of the patrons is also frighteningly reminiscent of said days.
However, that starts to change as the room darkens. On the stage, the heavy curtain parts and a series of spotlights (have we upgraded the lighting system lately?) illuminates a chalkboard, a podium, a gunmetal gray teacher’s desk (complete with a shiny red apple) and a wooden box (apparently someone’s borrowed the soapbox for this presentation).
Sitting atop the desk, ruler tapping against her thigh, is none other than our own Birthday Nymph. No wings this time. In fact, it’s difficult to recognize her as Our Nymph at all. Legs encased in black fishnet stockings barely visible under her calf-length black skirt. White starched blouse opened at her throat. Her hair fastened back in a tight chignon. And the glasses. Since when do Nymphs wear wire-rims? No matter.
Patrons begin to shift nervously in their seats as her gaze searches over them. Her eyes narrow and one or two of the drinkers begin searching through journals or bags, apparently looking for last night’s homework. One is led to believe that our Nymph has brought back some memories for more than one of La Taverna’s regulars.
<ahem>
There is still shuffling and whispering. She raises her ruler (we see now that she’s cleverly disguised her wand to serve this function). With a snap of her wrist, the ruler strikes the metal desk with a sharp <thwap>. The room goes silent.
“Thank you.
“It has come to my attention that a certain member of our little community is somewhat, shall we say, ‘lacking’ in the more practical side of relationships. It was my intention to cover this material in a later lecture; however, given that this particular student … er … patron is also celebrating a birthday today, I’ve decided to alter the syllabus a bit in Naïve’s honor. Fortunately, our visual aid was available for today.”
She gestures towards offstage and a woman, barefoot and clad in a silk robe, walks to the center of the stage. She gives her black hair a toss and straightens her shoulders, giving the class a brief view of delightfully full breasts straining against the draped fabric. Taking the proffered hand of Our Nymph, she steps atop the wooden box so that all students have a good view.
“Ah. Yes. I see that I have your attention now. Thank you. We’ll start today’s lesson, Dear Naïve, with a clothed woman. It should be remembered from previous lessons, class, that one should not rush these things.”
She slides her chair from behind her desk to beside the, um, ‘visual aid’ and steps up, felt-tip pen in hand, so that she stands slightly to the side and behind the robed woman.
“As you can see, the robe offers no shortage of opportunities and options. The robe opens and drapes in front, giving one easy access to her collar bone,” Our Nymph draws a small heart in red ink in the hollow of the woman’s collar, then brushes her fingertips across the woman’s throat, “and this most sensitive point at the base of her throat. I’d suggest feather-light touches, maybe with your lips, right,” she leans in and gives the woman the lightest of kisses, “here, where you can see her pulse throbbing.”
Her fingers linger on the open collar of red silk before she continues.
“As you can see, this delicate, barely-felt touch is much more effective than the full-steam-ahead, no holds barred approach favored by many, less-schooled people.” Indeed, our visual aid appears to be significantly less detached than she was before the lesson began.
In fact, the same could be said for many of the patrons. In the darkened barroom, desks are being shuffled and, judging from the lack of pen to paper activity, several patrons seem to have forgotten that they most likely will be tested on this material at a later date.
“You should, of course, feel free to linger in these areas. And, please do not take my focus upon her throat as any indication that you should avoid other delicate areas around her face and neck. For example, you could nibble here,” she drew a small red heart on the woman’s earlobe, “or here,” another heart on the back of her neck, “and you could always draw your fingers lightly through her hair, drawing her lips to yours.” And our Nymph does just this, her fingers wrapping behind the woman’s head, her hair entwined gently around the Nymph’s hand.
Our Nymph pauses and turns to face the class.
“You know, class, I think we’ll finish this lesson another time. Please, return to your desks and the room mother will be out shortly with juice and cupcakes for Naïve’s birthday. Now, you’ll excuse us, please…”
