Tiffany Jones
pulled her suitcase along behind her down the concourse of the airport
in Denver, worried that she might not be able to make her connecting
flight to Arizona. At twenty-three, the former cheerleader, with
her lustrous head of blond hair, hanging just past her shoulders, and
her full hard breasts, wasn't overtly aware that practically every man
she walked by turned to stare after her. Subconsciously, of
course, she knew she was attractive. Boys had chased her in High
School, and then young men in college, and she had learned how to walk,
stand and sit in ways that teased those men. Her walk
was confident, with a long stride that was a little hurried, and her
breasts bounced enticingly under the silk blouse she was
wearing. She had chosen to fly in a skirt, but wished she'd
worn pants as soon as she sat down on the first plane. She
didn't mind if some leg showed, but the skirt kept creeping up until it
was showing too much.
She felt a
little frazzled as she hurried along. She'd completed one
full year of teaching, which had gone pretty well, though her work load
was much more than she'd anticipated. Her boyfriend, from
college, had decided to stay there to work on a masters degree, and the
distance had slowly killed the relationship. She'd
hung on for eight months, but she knew there was nothing there
now. His letters and calls had begun to space out, and then he'd
suggested they "see other people." She was pretty sure he
was already "seeing other people", based on the sex drive she
remembered him having. He'd been her first.
Originally, she'd vowed she'd stay a virgin until she married, but that
all went out the window at a frat party, when she had a little too much
to drink, and her boyfriend had used that as an excuse.
She'd found out what she'd been missing, though. She wasn't too
drunk to remember that. She'd demanded he use condoms,
after that, because she found out the pill made her retain
water.
She'd maintained
her fabulous figure, at first because she thought her boyfriend would
miss her so much that he'd abandon college and run to marry her.
She wanted to look good in her wedding dress. But his waning
interest had killed that dream, and her work load had kept her social
life to a dismal low. She still had her fabulous figure,
and she knew she was bright and intelligent, but when the field of men
to choose from was so sparsely populated, even her own sex drive
wouldn't force her to seek frivolous dates. She was
interested in having a real mate ... someone who was dedicated to her
above all others ... someone she could give everything too, and get
everything from. She'd seen too many young women in college
throw themselves away in meaningless relationships that went
nowhere. She wasn't a shallow woman, and she didn't want a
shallow relationship. She was beginning to wonder if there were
any men who actually wanted that too.
Maybe she'd meet
someone interesting at this seminar, she thought as she hurried along,
leaving men with sagging jaws in her wake. She'd jumped at
the chance to attend the continuing educational seminar, even if that
meant teaching sex ed the next year. She still remembered
what High School life was like for a teenager, and she thought she had
something to offer those girls who, like her, were trying not to turn
into sluts.
Besides, at
least she could spend a week meeting new people and doing something
interesting, instead of sitting around her apartment, trying to figure
out how to meet men who weren't over forty, with sagging bellies, and
thinning hair. All the good ones had been taken when she
got to the little town of Hawkins's Point. She didn't even
mind submitting to a blood test, though she thought that was taking
things a bit too seriously, at least as far as she was
concerned. She wondered if that was part of the new
curriculum. Maybe they were finally going to start testing
students, and catching problems early.
Charles Bradshaw
was traveling light, with only a carry on bag hanging from his
shoulder. His single suitcase was being transferred to the new
plane by the airline. He wasn't in a hurry, and was engaged
in one of his favorite pastimes ... girl watching. The
airport was a good place to do that. Crowds of people kept
the scenery changing constantly and, since he was meandering along
slowly, women passed him, so he got a good look at wiggling hips and
didn't have to worry about them seeing him looking. Fantasy
played a big role in Chuck's life, which was why, truth be known, he
was still single. He was twenty-eight and taught phys ed at
King High School, where he was also the football coach. His
team had a respectable win/loss ratio. It wouldn't get him to
State Championships, but then nobody really complained about it either,
so there was no real stress. He believed, deep in his
heart, that the district had used this seminar thing to get a sample of
his blood, to ensure he wasn't using performance enhancing drugs.
He had smiled at the thought. He wasn't doping, and none of his
kids were either. All anybody had to do was look at their
win/loss record! He knew he had a problem, but doping
wasn't it.
Part of his
problem was that, off the field, he was shy. The bigger part of
his problem was that he had a thing for cheerleaders.
He was careful
not to expose that at school, but it leached into his personal
relationships. Three women had dumped him now, because of his
repeated attempts to get them to role play being seventeen year old
cheerleaders. They thought he was a bit too odd to keep
dating, though their opinion came nowhere near thinking he was a
disgusting pervert. That was good, because any of
them who would have gone to the school board would have gotten him
fired. It was not worth taking chances to have a teacher
who had a "thing" for girls he was around constantly.
In actuality, he wasn't really interested in girls that young, because
they were all mindless drones, who wouldn't do anything if everybody
else wasn't doing it too. He just liked the idea of pretending to
be the star quarterback, who managed to get between the legs of the
head cheerleader.
A young woman
hurried by him, her butt wiggling under a short skirt, as she took
ground-eating strides on two inch heels. He admired her
butt, and the cascade of blond hair that fell past her
shoulders. He wished he could see her front. If it
was anything like the back, she'd be good for hours of cheerleader
fantasies.
Sighing, he walked on.
Roberta Tinsdale
rode the escalator, examining the people going down, while she went
up. She liked looking at the men, mostly, because she always
examined them to see if they were the man she SHOULD have married,
instead of the one she did. She'd met Phillip in her senior
year of college, and he'd swept her off her feet ...
literally. He was a charismatic man, which was probably why
he was doing so well in business. He was a go-getter, and when he
saw Roberta, he went ... and got her. Though not a virgin,
when she'd met him, she wasn't promiscuous, and tended to hold to a
five or six date rule, where she didn't have sex for at least that
long. Her theory was that, by then, she'd know enough about
the man to know whether or not it was worth the risk.
Roberta was a good, Catholic girl, and for her, sex was risky.
Phillip had her in bed four hours into their first date.
He was hard to
resist in other ways too. When he told her they were
getting married, instead of asking her to marry him, she should have
recognized that as a trait of his that wouldn't fade away. She
hadn't, and now, she was paying for it. Phillip was almost
never home. His business dealings consumed all his time, energy
and attention. He planned on being a millionaire by the
time he was thirty. That was three years away, for both of them,
and it looked like he might make it. On paper anyway.
That didn't do
her much good now, though. She didn't, for all practical
purposes, have a husband. All their money was tied up in his
business ventures, which were risky in the extreme. She
taught, not because he wanted her to, but because he needed the money
she generated for his schemes.
He had unleashed
the passion in her and she needed sex a lot more than she had before
she met him. That last year in college had been fabulous,
with him giving her all the attention she wanted, except when she was
especially fertile. He laughingly said that, after he
married her, he wanted his wife barefoot and pregnant. He'd
married her, but then, for four years, did nothing to make her that
way. He kept saying they weren't financially ready for children
yet. She felt like his expensive golf clubs, which he never used,
or the magnificent stereo system he'd bought, which only she played.
She thought
about the seminar she was on her way to. Marge, a teacher
friend of hers had said she couldn't stand being gone from home for a
whole week. It would be lonely. For Roberta, it
wouldn't be any different than being home.
She had finally
admitted to herself that her husband's fidelity was in serious
question. He was gone so much, and the people he worked with were
as cut-throat as he was, and would do anything to succeed.
Especially the women. That's why she didn't mind doing the
blood test for the seminar. She wasn't exactly nervous
about the results, but it would be good to know Phillip hadn't brought
anything ... unwanted ... home. If he was cheating.
She didn't have proof ... only circumstantial evidence. But
she didn't mind submitting her blood. It was better to
know.
She didn't want to think about that any more, and looked at the people around her.
She saw a man
going down, reading the Wall Street Journal in the few seconds he was
standing still. She snorted. He obviously wasn't the
one she should have married.
He was just like Phillip.
Jeff Watts
jogged through the terminal, not because he was late, but because he
could use the opportunity to get in a little exercise. He jogged
every day, when he could, and just figured that humping his carry on
would make up for the fact that it would be a short jog.
He also needed
to work off a little energy. That was, in the main, why he
jogged in the first place. He had completed the first year of his
first teaching job successfully, teaching art at West High
School. Unfortunately, that was about the only thing in his
life that was successful. Melanie, his young and
beautiful wife, when she found out what his salary was going to be, and
looked at the house they would have to live in on that salary, went
home to Daddy. He'd known how spoiled she was during their
courtship. When he couldn't afford things, her father bought them
for his baby girl. When they'd gotten married while they were
both still in college, he'd tried to put his foot down. He was
the man of the house now, and they shouldn't depend on his in-laws for
luxuries. They were starting a new life, and should work
their way up.
Melanie
disagreed. She got money behind his back, always promising
that was the last time she'd do it. She wasted the money on
clothing she didn't need, shoes she didn't wear, and furniture that
wouldn't fit in their college apartment. He'd thought
he would be able to break her of that when they moved away from her
parents.
He'd been
wrong. She'd lasted a whole three weeks, and then, in an
overly dramatic wail, said she couldn't possibly live in "these
conditions". Not only that, she'd taken their only car and
gone back home to mommy and daddy with it, leaving him with just his
bicycle, to get to and from work.
She didn't file
for divorce. She simply wrote him a letter that said, when he got
a REAL job, to let her know. Until then, she was staying at
home, where she belonged. It had been embarrassing for him.
He'd had to go to all the faculty events stag, where people asked him
where his wife was. What could he tell them? Not the
truth. He'd be the laughing stock of the whole school.
By the time the
first year was over, a rumor had started that he'd murdered her, and
hidden the body. Nobody had ever seen her after the first
week of school. It wasn't a serious rumor, but it lay
there, in the back of everybody's mind, non-the-less. It
caused people to shy away from him.
It was for that
reason he was glad to be going to this seminar. Along with art,
he taught sex ed. He felt singularly unqualified to teach
it. If he couldn't even keep his wife at home, where she
belonged, what business did he have talking to teens about
relationships? He hoped he could become friends with
someone at this seminar. He needed someone to talk
to. If he was alone much longer, he might to crazy.
Crystal Smith
settled into the cheap seat uncomfortably. She was so tall that
flying in coach was always a pain in the ass. At six feet and
almost four inches, her head stuck up too, and she couldn't even lay it
back without craning her neck. She'd brought a book,
another in a series of romance novels. She knew they were silly,
stupid even, but she was hooked on them. They almost always had
happy endings. If she couldn't have a happy ending in her own
life, at least she could read about other women who found romance, and
happiness and satisfaction in bed. She knew that would never
happen for her.
She looked at
the cover of the book and frowned. She knew she was jaded,
particularly about men. Divorced for five years, and having
just "celebrated" her thirtieth birthday, she felt her biological clock
ticking away the seconds. After the divorce, she'd gone back to
school, and thought a teaching degree would give her a fresh, new
start. It had, for that matter, in everything except her
love life.
"What am I
thinking," she thought, staring at the ravishing young woman on the
cover of the book, being held by the equally ravishing young and
shirtless man. "I don't HAVE a love life!"
That was what
had made her so mad about having to submit to a blood test to continue
teaching Sex Ed. It was ridiculous, but she couldn't
complain about it. How do you go to your principal and complain
that you don't need a blood test because you haven't had sex in five
years, and you're not having sex now!? Besides, there were
new diseases around, that had long incubation periods. People
were finding out now, about mistakes they didn't even know they'd made
ten years ago. She'd had sex ten years ago. So,
she'd gone to the lab. She wasn't worried about the results,
though. She'd told herself that at least two dozen times.
She'd met men
when she started teaching, but they were mostly married, and all
short. Shorter than she was anyway. She didn't mind being
at school, where things kept her busy, but at home, in bed, in the
still of night, she longed to have someone there next to her, to hold
her, and whisper to her ... someone to share life with ... someone to
make her a mother. She'd had that, in the beginning, when
she married, but it hadn't lasted long. He was addicted to
gambling, and had been the whole time they'd dated, even though she
didn't know that. Things fell to pieces, and he chose
his habit over his wife, when push came to shove.
Someone sat down
next to her and she glanced over, just out of the side of her eyes ...
not making real eye contact ... not inviting conversation ... but just
to see what her seat mate might be like. It was a man, and
he was looking right at her. He'd caught her sideways glance, and
smiled in return, destroying her attempt to keep him at arms length.
"Hi," he said.
"Ummm," said
Crystal, in as uncommitted a way as possible. He was
short, of course. They were all short ... or taken.
She opened the book to the middle and pretended to take up reading
there, even though she hadn't actually started this book yet. She
stared at the pages, but didn't see the words. Her legs were
already feeling cramped. While she actually had a curvy
figure, her height seemed to stretch those curves out, somehow, and she
thought she looked like a scarecrow sometimes. She wished
she could go into a lotus position and meditate, during the
flight. She lost hours and hours to meditation, and never
missed them. She was so limber that folding her body into strange
contortions didn't hurt either, though there was no position she could
assume in a coach seat that would be comfortable. She could clasp
her ankles behind her neck, folding her entire body in half, with the
back of her knees behind her arms, but if she did that, the passengers
would freak out. Most people freaked out if they saw her do
that. She could even lick her own pussy if she wanted
to. She did that a lot more often than she thought she
should.
But, when you're horny, and have no man, what else can you do?
Woody Buckholtz
found his seat and edged into it after putting his carry on bag in the
upper bin. He looked at the woman who was already sitting by the
window. She was a tall one, probably a basketball player on her
way somewhere. Nice looking, but VERY tall. He
thought about the two of them trying to dance. Woody loved
to ballroom dance. It was part of his fitness regimen, which he
pursued with single-mindedness. If he danced with this
woman, his face would be right in her breasts, he guessed.
He grinned. That might not be so bad. Her blouse looked
nicely filled, though he wasn't hooked on big breasts. Every
woman had something, and more than a mouthful was wasted ... right?
She glanced over
at him while he was assessing her. Her eyes skittered past his,
and a tense look came on her face as her eyes drifted back and locked,
for a fraction of a second, with his.
"Hi," he
offered. Woody was a friendly, happy-go-lucky kind of guy,
who enjoyed talking to just about anyone, about any thing. He'd
even struck up a conversation with the technician who drew his blood
for who knew what reason, for the seminar he was going to.
He didn't know it, but he was exactly the kind of passenger nobody
wants to sit next to, because he always tried to engage them in
conversation. It didn't matter about what. He didn't
care. It was just a fun way to pass the time. What else
were you going to do while a twenty-thousand pound pile of wires and
metal defied gravity?
"Ummm," she
said. Her eyes went back to the book in her hand, like she hadn't
meant to look at him at all, and she opened it and started reading.
He
sighed. Some people were so suspicious of others that they
were stand-offish. He had plenty of time. He'd get
her talking sooner or later. Maybe she'd tell him about her
team. Maybe he could tell her about Mandy, and how
she'd left him, because he wanted something deeper and more important
than a casual fling. How could she be like
that? When he'd been growing up, he'd been taught that you
didn't have sex with someone until you got married. He'd
kind of changed that. His opinion was that you didn't have sex
with someone unless you were WILLING to get married to her.
And when Mandy had spread her beautiful thighs for him, he'd thought
he'd found his life mate on his very first try! She strung
him along for two years, but when he started insisting that they talk
about "the future", she'd finally frowned and said "There is no future,
Woody. I'm not ready to settle down. I want to see the
world."
Maybe this
globe-trotting basketball star sitting next to him could explain that
to him. What was it that made some people want to flit from place
to place, like a butterfly? Wasn't it much better staying
in one place, with someone you loved, and could care about, and take
care of? That's why he loved teaching. He got
to stay in one place and, though the kids moved through, he got to take
care of them ... help them ... make their lives better.
He'd give her fifteen minutes, and then try again.
Jane Watson was
excited as she boarded the plane. Until she'd gotten out of
college, she'd never been outside of West Virginia. She had a big
family, an old fashioned family, and she had no idea what the "outside
world" was like. That changed dramatically when she took a
job teaching in an upper Idaho. She'd been recruited
while she was still in school, and the thought of getting out of West
Virginia ... to be able to see someplace different and meet new people
... was too much to resist.
She'd caught
hell for it from her family, from her father on down. Jed
Buchannan wasn't happy either. He was her fiancé, and had
been since she was sixteen. Not that she'd chosen
him. Her family had chosen him. He had three
hundred acres and a small herd of cattle. He was a man of means
in Juniper, where everyone in that neighborhood got their mail.
But, she'd
already signed a contract, and her word was her bond. It was her
Daddy who had said that on many occasions, and when she threw it back
in his face, it felt good. Then it felt bad, because
he looked sad. She could barely stand
that. She loved her Daddy. She loved him too
much, really. When she'd discovered the hard little nubbin
between her legs, and how much fun it was to play with that, she'd
thought about her Daddy every time she'd ever done
it. That was because the way she discovered her own
little nubbin, was by peeking at the one between her mother's legs,
which her Daddy happened to be sucking on when she was peeking.
She'd felt bad
about lusting after her own Daddy while she was a teenager.
Not because that wasn't unheard of. She had at least two friends
who had babies by their fathers, and three more who got knocked up by a
brother, or cousin. But it couldn't happen in her
family. Her Daddy was a Deacon, and Deacons didn't do those
kinds of things. It had never occurred to her that Deacons didn't
engage in oral sex either.
Still, he was
the strongest, most handsome man in the whole world, as far as she was
concerned, and if she couldn't have him to suck on her outrageously
active little clitty, she'd almost rather just play with herself.
Jed tried, bless
his heart. But Jed wasn't the kind of man who put his mouth on a
woman's privates. He was eight years older than her.
When she'd turned seventeen, he'd managed to divest her of her
virginity pretty well, but about the time she got going, he was done
and lying on the hay beside her, gasping for breath.
Then she got a
scholarship to college. Jed didn't want her to go. Neither
did her father. She belonged on the farm, raising babies, they
told her. She defied them, leaving on the bus without
telling anyone she was going. Jed had "forgiven her" in a
letter, and said he'd wait. She'd sighed the contract for
teaching in Idaho because she couldn't bear to go back home. She
claimed, in a letter, that it was part of her college program.
Her freshman
year in college had opened her eyes to the way other women were
treated. Worse, she met another man, named Paul. Paul was
from Washington D.C., which, technically, was part of the South, but he
didn't act Southern. He was one of her study
partners, and he had the bluest eyes in the world. He also
had a ready smile and a girlfriend back home. It just
seemed natural to become friends. They even agreed that, since
they both had sweethearts back home, it would be safer for both of them
if they didn't pal around with others, and hung out just with each
other. That way they would be pure to those back home.
They hadn't
planned on finding out they really liked each other, or going to a
party, or getting a little tipsy. She hadn't planned on telling
him her secret desire either. When he told her to close her
eyes, and think of whatever she wanted to, and then started sucking her
clit, she went through the roof. Within five or six minutes
he had filled her pussy with more hard cock than Jed would ever hope to
have, and was ramming away at her while she, with her eyes still
closed, moaned "Oh Daddy .. Oh Daddy, Oh Yes, Daddy." Then,
right after she had the best orgasm of her whole life, he was spurting
right up inside her, which had never happened before either. She
always made Jed use a rubber, even though they were engaged.
She hadn't
gotten pregnant, but it had strained the relationship, and they made
sure never to do it again. She'd gotten a wedding
invitation from him, but hadn't gone. She'd have blushed beet red
upon meeting the bride.
Now she was
twenty-five, with only one year on her contract left to go. Jed
was waiting, back home, tending cows and chickens and such, and being
patient while she "got it out of her system" and could come back to
take up a farm wife's life, like everyone back home seemed to thing she
was destined to do.
The trouble was,
she LIKED teaching. Her kids were middle schoolers, and they were
bright and interested, and liked to learn things. They were young
enough that their sprits hadn't been crushed yet, and just on the cusp
of learning what the difference was between male and female - REALLY
learning. When she was asked to teach them
sexual education, she almost laughed. The first thing she
thought about was teaching all those girls how to spread their legs,
and then teaching the boys how to properly suck a clitty.
She didn't do
that, of course. She actually took her job quite seriously, even
if she didn't know a whole lot more than her students. But
that was about to change. She was on her way to a seminar that
would give her all the tools she lacked, and she'd be a much better
teacher for it. She'd even be able to say she'd had a blood test
herself, when she recommend that to her students, before they engaged
in sex. Not that she planned on engaging in sex any time
soon, but she'd at least be a good example to her students.
If she was good enough, maybe she'd be offered another contract.
She knew what
would happen if she signed it. Her parents would disown
her, and Jed would find some other woman to take to his bed and work on
his farm.
The thought of
that didn't much bother her, as she settled into her seat.
She felt like she was a tiny woman, standing only five feet six.
She had plenty of room in the seat. She hoped somebody
interesting would sit next to her. She had only flown once
before, and that was to get to her first teaching job.
If whoever sat
by her was a fuddy duddy, it wouldn't really matter. She'd just
stare out the window and watch the big old world get a lot smaller as
it slid by under the plane.
Roger Zowalski
smiled at the stewardess - no, wait, they called them flight attendants
nowadays. In any case, she smiled back and he felt a stirring in
his loins. She was a pretty thing. He put her
out of his mind, though, and looked for his seat.
He had been
teaching for seventeen years, and his salary was high enough now that
he could afford some of the simple pleasures in life. One of
those was upgrading his coach ticket to first class. He didn't
mind the expense. His wife had died ten years past, and he
really didn't have much to spend his salary on anyway. He
lived a modest life. About the only other thing he spent a lot of
money on was his computer system.
That, however,
was state-of-the-art, and he spared no expense to make sure that his
computer was as properly secure as he could make it. That way he
could indulge his hobby, without fearing that anyone would find out
about it. He had literally tens of thousands of pictures on
that computer, and a few hundred videos, any one of which, if the
public found out about it, would cut his teaching career extremely
short. He wasn't into kiddy porn, but what he liked
was very close ... close enough that a lot of parents would scream for
his balls to be cut off and roasted.
His "habit" as
he thought of it, took the place of his lost wife. Her
death to cancer had almost destroyed him too. He
couldn't bring himself to date, after that, but fantasies, created by
pictures, and lived out with his hand, wasn't so bad.
At forty-two he could still produce a nice, hard erection, and he could
do it three or four times a day. With his pictures,
anyway.
About three
years ago he'd finally given in to the insistence of his peers, and
gone on a date. It hadn't been a disaster, but it
hadn't been very comfortable either. He sensed that the
woman liked him, and that she might be willing to go a lot farther than
Gladys had when he'd taken her on their first date, but the thought of
working through all the rules, and procedures, and customs that would
get him where she might be willing to go just left him
weak. They'd had a good time, of sorts, but it hadn't led
to more dates. Since then, to keep his fellow
teachers off his back, he'd gone out a few more times. They were
always "safe" dates, where someone set him up with "a nice
woman". What made them "safe" was that he always worked it
into the conversation that he couldn't "perform" as a man.
That cooled the ardor of almost any woman, especially those looking to
start a family.
Then, when he
got back home, he'd pull up a favorite series of pictures.
In his mind, he'd meet this girl, and she'd need help with something,
and, when he helped her, she'd pay him with the only currency she had
... her body. Of course, in his fantasy, she fell in love
with him ... wanted him ... needed him.
Real women of
the age he preferred didn't give him a second glance. It
wasn't that he was ugly, but the gray wings at his temples made them
think he was much older than he really was. To them, he was an
"older man". If they'd known he was relatively wealthy, it
wouldn't have mattered, but he didn't want a woman to seek him out just
for his money. Gladys had needed him, and that had
made him feel whole.
Nobody needed
him these days. He'd teach until he retired, and then
probably go live on an island somewhere. Maybe there would
be some sweet young thing that would need him there. At least,
since he'd volunteered to go to the seminar he was on his way to, he'd
be able to show them he'd had a blood test, and was given a clean bill
of health. He had no doubts about that.
His attention
was caught by a flurry of activity at the front of the plane. A
girl, perhaps eighteen or nineteen was ushered panting into the plane.
"You almost
missed the flight," said the pretty flight attendant. She looked
even prettier beside the girl who'd just made it. That girl
was a mousy young thing, with drab brown hair and braces that looked
like they were about to burst out of her mouth.
"I wasn't sure where to go," the girl panted. "I'm so glad I made it. I have to get to a seminar."
"Well you're
fine now," said the attendant. "Let's just get you back to your
seat and all settled in, and then we can take off and get you to your
seminar. How's that?"
Roger nodded as
the attendant calmed the girl down. She was going to a
seminar? He was too. It couldn't be the same one,
though. He had agreed to take on the Sex Ed classes in the High
School where he had taught Speech for years. It had been a
daring move, in his own mind. Some of those girls in that
class would be fifteen or sixteen. He hoped he wasn't
getting himself in trouble. In any case, this girl looked
way too young to be a teacher.
Of course, he
thought to himself, he WAS heading for a large resort and conference
center. He'd checked it out on the web, and been very
pleasantly surprised to find out that it was a top notch place.
It was big enough they could have lots of different seminars going on
at the same time. He was actually amazed that the School
Board would cough up money for that nice a facility.
He sat back in
his comfortable seat. The attendant brought him a glass of
wine. He was looking forward to the flight, and soaking in
the hot tub the resort's web site had described. There
would certainly be some young women hanging around the pool, which was
right next to the hot tub.
Lori Simpson was
still panting when the flight attendant turned her over to another
woman, who took her to her seat in the middle of the plane.
She struggled to get her carry on bag into the overhead compartment,
both because it was heavy, and because she was so
short. She was quite aware that people thought she
was still in High School, when they first saw her.
They didn't find out she had a brain, or could carry on a decent
conversation until she told them she was twenty three, and an honest to
goodness teacher.
She told everyone she met those two things: "I'm twenty-three and I'm a teacher."
Most people said
"That's nice", and then ignored her. Lori was easy to
ignore. She was a plain-looking, dowdily dressed slip of a
thing, who, despite proudly proclaiming she was a teacher, had never
set foot in a classroom, other than during her student teaching.
That she had a
contract to actually start teaching, the following fall, was good
enough for her. She'd worked hard to finish school,
and, by golly, she HAD been hired as a teacher. The college
placement office had gotten her the job. She'd never even
seen the school building yet, but a letter had come, telling her that
she would be employed as the social studies teacher at the Filbert
County Consolidated School. She'd had to look up Filbert
County on the map. At first she'd been a bit dismayed that,
according to the atlas, all of Filbert County had only sixteen hundred
people in it, and that included Dalton's Ridge, the county seat, which,
itself, had a population of one thousand, three hundred and sixteen.
As she thought
about it, though, a small, rural school was probably the best place for
her. That she was going to be teaching Sexual Education, as
part of the social studies program, was something like science fiction
to her. She knew nothing about sex. Literally!
She herself had
grown up on a farm, with no other kids nearby. She was home
schooled, and the only times her mother had talked about sex at all,
was to list the venereal diseases that were SURE to be caught, and all
the horrible things they would do to you, assuming you didn't die
almost instantly upon contracting one. Only sluts had sex,
according to her mother. Until, of course, you were properly
married. Then it was all right. That's how babies were
brought into the world, after all. But only when
married. Lori wondered if there was more to it, but didn't
dare ask. She saw the farm animals copulating, but
they were farm animals. Surely PEOPLE didn't do it that
way. She'd never seen her father without his body being
fully and properly covered. She knew he had to have a penis, but
had no idea what it looked like. She couldn't imagine
something like the horse had, tucked away in his overalls.
It was probably more like what Buster, her dog had between his legs.
That they sent
her to college at all was a surprise to her. That they sent her
to an all girls college wasn't. Her mother had cried when
she left, warning her over and over not to "have traffic with men" and
to "stay away from temptation".
Once there, she
realized that her parents actually meant well, but were frightened to
death of the real world. That wasn't surprising. It
scared her half to death too. The other girls around her
talked about the most disgusting things, and claimed to have done the
most unimaginable acts. Several of them had talked
about "blow jobs", during which Lori almost got physically ill.
She knew,
instinctively, that if she asked the questions that flooded her mind,
she would be made fun of. For that reason, she didn't ask
them. As a result, it was a little like a kid, who knows
there is such a thing as finger painting, but finds herself in a group
that is talking about hues, and polymers, and latex bases, all of which
are words she knows have meaning, but might as well be a foreign
language.
She didn't fit
in, socially, so she got a job in a dental supplies company near the
school. It was something of a windfall. Her
supervisor took one look at her misshapen mouth, and literally dragged
her to their head of research and development, who was trying to sell a
new type of equipment to orthodontists. That man had
arranged for the equipment to be used on her, as a test subject, and
she'd gotten thousands of dollars of dental work done free.
By the time she got her teaching degree, her teeth were almost
straight, and the series of pictures of her open mouth were firmly
ensconced in the company's sales brochures. She'd
have to leave the braces on for another year, and she'd have to pay
somebody to tend them, but her supervisor had contacted a customer in
Dalton's Ridge - the only orthodontist in the whole county - and
arranged for her to get a discount.
She sat down in
her seat, and took a deep breath. The man next to her
didn't even look as the front of her shirt expanded. She
had a good body. She knew that, based on comparing hers with
girls at college. Hardly anyone knew that, of course.
She wore the proper clothing to hide it. She was excited,
and she knew the nipples under her sturdy bra were erect. She
could feel them tingling. They did that whenever she thought
about sex.
Now, perhaps, at
this seminar, she could find some answers to her multitude of
questions. Maybe, after she got those answers, and got to
her new school, and showed them her blood test, and got her braces off,
she might even consider trying to figure out how a girl got asked to go
on a date.
She closed her
eyes. Whenever she thought about dates, she thought about her
Uncle Bob. He was the black sheep of the family, almost
never welcome at the house, even though he visited quite
regularly. He wore different clothes, with colors in them
she'd never seen until she went to college. College had made her
think about him too. He had a ready smile, and laughed a
lot. As hard as she tried, she could never remember her
parents laughing at anything.
He was the only
man who had ever paid her a compliment. He'd called her
"cutie". Her mother had corrected his bad behavior, but he'd
winked at Lori when her mother wasn't looking, and grinned.
As she thought about that grin, her nipples tingled again.
Bob Stevens went
over the material he'd present at his seminar. He was a
psychologist, but had found he could make more money, and make more of
a difference by taking his message to groups of people, rather than
trying to convert them one or two at a time.
That his message
worked, he knew. He had plenty of anecdotal evidence of
that. Not only did he have a stack of testimonials, he had
a stack of baby pictures, sent to him by some of his prior
clients. At least two of those babies were his, and both the
woman who had that baby, and her husband knew that.
There was no ill
will, however, between him and any of the people who had attended his
seminars. People who might develop ill will were weeded out
pretty quickly. When they found out what his ideas
were, they usually wanted their money back. He gave it to them,
and wished them well. Then he spent time with those who
stayed. A lot of babies had resulted from the relationships
of those who stayed.
Not that his
process was intended to result in pregnancies. What he
taught was how to be in love, and how to express love under a range of
different conditions. People were all different, and so,
when they fell in love, the relationships were all
different. "Different strokes, for different folks" while
simple, was about as wise a thing as anybody had ever said.
What Bob excelled at, was identifying what stroke was needed, and then
helping the couples adapt to, what before the seminar, might have been
perceived as "perversion", or something "dirty".
Bob didn't
believe in perversion. Not between consenting adults.
At the same time, he was fully aware that there were things people did
to each other and CALLED sex, that weren't about sex at all.
Those things were about power and control, and had very little to do
with sexual relationships. Most of those things had nothing
whatsoever to do with love. Helping people understand that made a
huge difference in their lives.
Rape fantasies
were a good example. True rape wasn't sex. It was all about
terrorizing another human being, and exerting absolute control, even
ownership, albeit temporary, of that person. There was no
love involved in any way, shape, or form. No woman wanted to be
raped, but tens of thousands of women still had a rape fantasy, in
which the man (of their choosing) took her (within limits), while she
made all the noises of resistance (not meaning them) and resisted
physically (though not enough to actually stop him). The
woman who had that fantasy didn't want to be raped ... but she wanted
to FEEL like she wasn't agreeing to the sex involved. It
was a complicated role playing situation, and one Bob explored with
couples only in situations where great care could be taken to move
things along slowly.
He stretched his
back by putting his hands on his hips and leaning back as far as he
could. He knew the material by heart. What he needed
was the people who had signed up for his seminar. They'd be
arriving soon, and the games would begin. He looked forward
to this part the most. Peering into the psyches of
new people was always fascinating. You never knew how
things would turn out. Some people took to his program like
a duck to water. Others adopted some of his techniques, but not
all. Some asked for their money back and left, thinking he
was a quack.
All that was fine. He just liked helping people who accepted his help.
