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A Rose By Any Other Name - Part 8 By Jeremy Spencer
   "Are you sure you have everything?" I asked from my car, where I had
been arranging my suitcase and our two pieces of carry-on luggage.  I
hurried to help when I noticed Heather struggling to carry her suitcase
down the sidewalk to my car, but she shook her head for me not to bother.
   "You mean this?" she asked, looking down at her luggage.  "This is most
of it." Heather continued lugging the battered suitcase towards the car as
I stood there, momentarily stunned.
   "Most of it?" I asked cautiously.  "How much is left?" I looked around
the tiny back seat of my compact car and wondered exactly where all of our
stuff was going to fit.
   "My smaller suitcase has all of our bathroom stuff, along with some
bedroom toys," she said, grinning slyly at me.
   "You...  you brought stuff?" I asked.  "Nothing...  nothing painful
right?  We talked about that, I thought."
   "No," she laughed.  "Nothing painful."
   "But...  what if someone sees it?"
   "Like who?"
   "Like someone from the airport, or from the hotel?"
   "Who cares?" she shrugged.  "It's not in our carry-on luggage, so if
someone does see it, it isn't like we'll be standing right there looking
guilty about it!  And if we leave it out at the hotel, it would just be one
of the maids that sees it.  I don't care!"
   "Fine," I said, smiling a little.  "Just be sure to put up the Do Not
Disturb sign if you want to start anything...  kinky, okay?"
   "Promise," Heather nodded.  "Although it might be fun to leave you tied
to the bed while I called down for room service."
   "You wouldn't!" I said, my eyes I'm sure growing as wide as silver
dollars.
   "You were going to leave me in the bedroom and watch a baseball game on
television," Heather huffed, while I burst into laughter.
   "I was not," I laughed.
   "You said you were," she replied.
   "You were naked, dripping wet for me...  how could any man leave that
behind?"
   "You mean it?" she asked, reaching out to wrap her arms around my neck
and pull my head down.
   "I mean it," I answered just before her lips met mine.
   "Good," she said after a minute.  "Now hurry up, or we'll be late!"
   "Yes, ma'am," I said, snapping off my best salute.  "Your wish is my
command."
   "Humph," Heather grunted.  "Don't you forget it," she said menacingly,
but there was a twinkle in her eye.
   As the two of us drove to the airport she continued to look at me from
the passenger's seat.
   "What's up?" I asked.
   "Nothing.  This is my first flight, you know?"
   "Really?"
   "Yeah."
   "It's going to be fine," I said, trying to be reassuring.  "Nothing to
worry about."
   "I really love you," she said finally as we neared the departure gate. I
turned and smiled.
   "I love you too," I answered.  We drove on in silence, but suddenly all
I could think of was the possibility of joining the Mile High club.
   *****
   "Oh my God," Heather moaned loudly enough for our fellow passengers to
hear.  "No one told me it would be like this!"
   I looked over in alarm to where she was sitting.  She had her face
cradled in her hands and was rocking back and forth in her seat.
   "Are you okay?" I asked, suddenly concerned.  Heather had seemed fine
during takeoff, but ever since the seat belt sign had been turned off she
had seemed antsy.  She didn't look pale to me, but her actions seemed to
say otherwise, and I wasn't going to argue with a potentially sick
girlfriend.
   "I think I'm going to puke," she said, glancing at me for help.
   "Hang on," I said, pawing through the magazines in the seat in front of
me.  "Shit," I swore.  "There aren't any barf ba...  any air sickness bags
here." I turned to Heather who seemed to be on the verge of saying
something when one of the flight attendants walked down the aisle towards
us.
   "Is everything okay?" the young woman asked in a pleasant voice, her
face showing immediate concern when she saw the state Heather appeared to
be in.  "Oh my...  how do you feel?"
   "Not good," Heather mumbled.
   "There aren't any bags," I said quietly to the attendant.  "I think I
need to get her to the bathroom."
   "Certainly," the woman nodded immediately.
   I helped Heather into the narrow aisle, holding her shoulders as I
followed her toward the small bathroom.  I saw Dr.  Bergerud look up in
concern from the other side of the plane, but I shook my head to tell him
everything was fine.
   "I'll be right out here," I gently told Heather, nodding to the
attendant who left after handing me a couple of damp, warm towels.
   "Oh God," Heather moaned and I quickly turned my attentions to my
girlfriend who was now kneeling on the cool floor of the tiny room.
   "How are you?" I asked softly.  Heather turned to answer, but the
miserable expression on her face told me everything I needed to know. 
"It's okay," I said, rubbing her back through the thin sweater she had
elected to wear on the chilly airplane.
   "I feel terrible," Heather moaned.
   "Just...  just let it go," I said, indicating the stainless steel
toilet. I held Heather's long curls away from the toilet, trying to ignore
the heaving sounds as Heather lost what little breakfast she had eaten that
morning.
   Thankful for the damp washcloths, I wiped the perspiration from
Heather's forehead before washing her face clean.  She stood a bit shakily,
grabbing my hand as we exited the restroom.
   "Better?" I asked quietly as we returned to our seats.
   "A little," she shrugged, seemingly embarrassed by the looks of concern
she was receiving from those seated around us.
   The same flight attendant brought over a small can of ginger ale and a
package of crackers, which Heather started to refuse.
   "Take them," I whispered softly.  "They'll do you a lot of good right
now."
   Heather grudgingly accepted the food and began nibbling at the crackers
while taking small sips of the soda.  When she finished the small meal
Heather leaned against me, the exhaustion on her face evident.
   "Time for a nap?" I asked, curious to see if she would be able to. 
During my years of touring with my college's choir, I had taken many plane
rides but had never been able to sleep well.
   Heather nodded, and to my relief and a bit of envy, she was quickly
asleep.
   *****
   Eventually I too was able to get some rest, but as always my sleep was
light and interrupted by any mechanical sound I heard.  But it was still a
surprise when I felt myself roused from my sleep by a gentle tapping on my
leg.
   "Shh," Heather whispered.  I opened my eyes to find I could see nothing
but pitch black - the plane had apparently flown into darkness and the
cabin lights were turned off.
   "Heather?" I answered.  "Are you okay?"
   "I'm fine," she answered.  "I didn't mean to wake you up."
   "It's okay.  What time is it?"
   "I don't know.  I put my watch in my bag under the seat."
   "Still cold?" I asked when I saw Heather had grabbed one of the blankets
from the overhead compartment at some point.
   "Actually I'm a little warm," she admitted.  "That's why I woke you up."
   "We don't need the blanket," I said, noticing it was thrown over my legs
more than hers.
   "That's not what I meant," she giggled softly, reaching out to grab my
wrist.  She pulled my hand under the blanket and between her thighs.  "I'm
really kind of hot," she said.  "Can't you tell?"
   I could.
   Even before I reached the juncture of her legs, I could feel the heat
from her pussy radiating upward toward my hand.  The circulation and
recycling of the air throughout the cabin kept me from smelling Heather's
arousal, but when my fingers found her pubic hair already soaked with her
slick juices there was no doubt as to her excitement level.
   "I'm so wet," Heather blushed.  "I keep hearing about people joining the
Mile High club and I got so excited." Heather leaned close, pressing my
hand firmly against her wet crotch.  I flexed my fingers once, sliding over
her slippery flesh before burying my index finger in her warmth.
   "What do you want to do?" I asked, my voice nearly cracking as I
whispered into the darkness.  My cock was instantly hard, my heart pounding
in my chest as I imagined the possibilities.  I had read stories and heard
rumors about the Mile High club, but most of what I had heard was totally
unbelievable.
   Tales of wild fucking in the bathroom seemed impossible, especially
since I knew firsthand just how small this one was and how close the rest
of the passengers really were.  I had heard rumors of people screwing
underneath a blanket similar to what was now draped over my lap, but even
that seemed impossible.  Was that what Heather had in mind?  How were we
supposed to do it?
   Before I could mention any of this Heather grinned and pushed my hand
away from her boiling pussy.
   "What?" was all I managed to get out before Heather dropped her head,
winking as she pulled the blanket from my lap.
   "Lift your hips," she whispered and I felt her fingers beginning to
struggle with my belt.  Suddenly the belt was undone, followed quickly by
the waistband and zipper of my jeans.
   I obediently lifted my hips and quickly Heather pushed my jeans and
underwear down around my knees, freeing my erection, which obediently
popped into the air, stiff and ready.
   "Try not to make too much noise," she giggled softly before leaning down
and taking my length in her hot, wet mouth.  Realizing where she was headed
I grabbed a corner of the blanket and pulled it over my lap, covering my
nakedness as well as her position.
   I grabbed hold of the arm rests with both hands, making fists as I tried
not to cry out.  Heather' head was bobbing up and down furiously in my lap
and through the blanket I could hear soft wet slurping noises as her lips
and tongue played over my hot flesh.
   I closed my eyes tight before realizing I alone could watch for anyone
who might see us and quickly opened them, glancing around nervously.  The
other passengers seemed to be sleeping, but I was nervous about a flight
attendant - perhaps the helpful one from earlier on the flight - checking
to see how we were doing.
   "Oh fuck," I hissed as Heather began applying heavy suction to the head
of my prick.  Her hand was wrapped around my balls, gently squeezing in
time with her sucking and I knew my time was soon approaching.  To my
dismay Heather pulled her mouth away from my cock and grinned at me.
   "Good?" she asked.
   "Hurry up," I moaned.  As soon as Heather once again dropped her open
mouth to my erection I again covered her head with the blanket and reached
out my right hand and slipped it between Heather's legs.  Her juices were
flowing freely from her pussy, coating the insides of her thighs with
sticky fluid.  I simply followed the trail to the source and with my hand
already well-lubricated, plunged three fingers inside her dripping snatch.
   "Humph," she moaned around my cock as I penetrated her sticky center. 
As I began a steady thrusting motion Heather sped her movements around my
prick.  I used my thumb to strum a quick rhythm on Heather's clit, trying
to bring her to her own orgasm.
   Unable to hold off any longer I thrust my hips against Heather's mouth
as a river of sperm flowed from my cock.  She choked softly as the first
spurt erupted but quickly began swallowing my seed.
   Her hips were flexing against my hand in time to the muscles in her
throat contracting around my prick and as my orgasm dwindled I felt
Heather's pussy clench around my fingers.  Realizing her time had arrived I
began tickling the inside of her walls with my fingers, dragging my nails
lightly over the rough patch of skin that was her most sensitive spot.
   Heather froze momentarily and the thought occurred to me that if she
fought to stifle a cry my prick - soft now but still encased in her mouth -
might be in danger.  Happily Heather's climax caused no such troubles
although her legs did spasm and hit the back of the seat in front of us. 
Luckily no one seemed to notice.
   "Wow," Heather whispered as I slowly brought her down from her orgasm.
To my surprise she grabbed my hand away from her pussy and licked her
juices from my fingers, savoring each digit as she licked up her sticky
secretions.
   The visual was nearly enough to bring my prick back to life, but I was
spent for the moment and quickly felt myself tiring.
   We cuddled together under the blanket and were quickly asleep.
   *****
   I was awakened by a rough shaking on my shoulder, and not for the first
time wondered why I was never the first one awake.  Grumbling like I
normally do when aroused from a deep sleep I slowly opened my eyes to see
who the disturber of my sleep was this time.
   "What?" I asked when I saw it was Dr.  Bergerud.  I was perhaps a bit
more gruff than I should have been, but in my mind he deserved it.
   "Come on," he said, shaking me a bit more roughly and I immediately
thought of my father.  Never one to coddle a sleeping person, I generally
figured myself to be lucky while growing up if my father simply called my
name as opposed to grabbing the sheets and pulling my pillow out from under
my head in order to wake me up.
   "We're there," he laughed.  "Heather's already climbed over you, so get
up," he said, slapping my knee.  I grumbled a bit more but finally pulled
myself out of the uncomfortably small airplane seat and grabbed my small
bag.
   Still wiping the sleep out of my eyes I staggered after the rest of our
group.  Dr.  Bergerud held back to wait for me while the three women went
on ahead.  I watched them for a moment before hurrying after them.
   "Pretty amazing," I said.
   "What is?" Dr.  Bergerud responded.
   "Your wife and daughter.  If I didn't know which was which, I think you
could have convinced me the two were sisters."
   "They're a lot a like," he said, nodding his head.  "In lots of
different ways."
   "What do you mean?" I asked.
   "Just...  lots of different ways," he replied.  "Come on, let's go get
the luggage and try to get to our hotel before lunch."
   Our plane had landed at a little after ten o'clock in the morning, but
my body - even with the sleep I'd had on the plane - was letting me know
that more rest would be in order before I would feel normal.
   "Can't do it," was Stacey's response.  "If you sleep now, you'll just be
messed up the rest of the trip."
   "But it's not even noon yet," I protested.  "I'm going to keel over from
exhaustion long before bedtime."
   "Nonsense," Katie giggled.  "I'm sure Heather will think of something to
keep you up, if you know what I mean."
   Heather and I shared a small grin, but I was surprised when Stacey
jumped into the conversation.
   "Katie," she said harshly.  "That's enough of that kind of talk."
   "Yes," interjected Dr.  Bergerud.  "Apologize this instant."
   "Sorry, Sir," Katie mumbled quietly before turning to where Heather and
I were standing.  "I'm sorry, guys."
   "That's okay," said Heather while I nodded my agreement.  "It's fine."
   The previously good mood was only slightly lessened as the five of us
stood waiting to retrieve our luggage.  Apparently Swedish airports are
much more efficient than American airports generally are, and it was but a
matter of five or six minutes before our luggage came rolling past us.
   "That's mine!" Heather shouted, reaching to grab her smaller suitcase,
the transport of which had cost us a few extra dollars.
   "Careful," I said, leaning close to whisper in her ear.  "Wouldn't want
everyone to see what a couple of perverts we are."
   Heather responded by elbowing me in the gut before turning to laugh.
   "No chance of that," she grinned.  "Stacey and Katie each had some extra
room in their carry-on luggage, so we swapped some stuff out."
   "So you're saying that..."
   "Our toys were with us on the plane," she grinned impishly.
   "What?" I asked in amazement.  "What if..."
   "Sorry I didn't tell you," she giggled.  "Did you want to play earlier?"
   "Not a bit," I said and hurried to catch up with the Bergerud family. 
Our bags had all arrived and we were now headed out to find a cab to take
us to the hotel the conference had set up for us.
   The World Choral Symposium is - as the name implies - a major
international choral event.  The Symposium is held every three years, each
time in a different world city and hosted by that city's top choral
organizations.  Clinicians come from around the world to give workshops and
there are numerous educational opportunities, but the top attractions for
most of the attendees are the concerts given each day.  Any choir from
around the world can apply to perform, so the screening process is
incredibly intense, and those selected truly are the cream of the choral
world.
   I knew that years before at either the fourth or fifth Symposium, Dr. 
Bergerud had taken a group to perform, and he had always looked at that
event as one of his major achievements.  It occurred to me that he was
attending this Symposium solely as an observer, and asked why he still
wanted to come.
   "Oh, many reasons, I guess," he said while the girls tried to hail a
cab. As efficient as the airport had been at getting our luggage, it
appeared the cab drivers in Stockholm were much the same as those in other
cities - never around when you needed one.
   "Like what?" I asked.  I knew it was going to be a fun time, but
wondered why the professor wasn't more excited to take three months off
away from work.
   "I'm getting old, Daniel.  I'm not sure how much longer I'm going to
teach at the University."
   "What?" I asked.  This was completely unexpected news.  "When?  Why? 
You're retiring?"
   "Not right now," he explained.  "But probably soon.  I've been teaching
here for more than twenty years and I think I'm ready for a change."
   "But retirement?" I asked again.
   "No!  At least not yet.  I think I want to try my hand at being more of
a teacher, as opposed to a lecturer."
   "What's the difference?" I asked, becoming a bit confused.  "You teach
now."
   "Not really," he shrugged.  "What I do now is mainly read aloud in front
of a class of kids who really don't want to be there.  Do you know what the
best part of my day is, almost every day?" he asked.
   "Lunch?" I joked.
   "Okay, the second best part of the day?"
   "What?"
   "Seeing you walk in the office."
   "Aww," I said.  "I didn't know you cared."
   "Twit," he laughed.  "It's not that, it's that you still care.  I can
tell."
   "What do you mean?"
   "You're not jaded.  You're still excited about teaching.  In between
having to lecture in front of two hundred students and dealing with college
politics, I've lost some of my excitement."
   "So if you're not retiring, then what are you planning on doing?"
   "High school."
   "Really?  You think you'd like that?"
   "It was always my goal," he admitted.
   "Then how did you end up teaching college?" I asked.  "Why not find some
school looking for a music teacher and apply?"
   "I wanted to," he said wistfully.
   "Something happened?" I asked.
   "Yes," he said, nodding his head.
   "What?"
   "Someday maybe I'll tell you," the professor answered simply.  Before I
could ask more questions our conversation was interrupted by the squeals of
the girls, who had managed - finally - to hail a cab, although as Katie
said, "we only had to flash our boobs twice to get him to pull over."
   I wanted to ask the professor more about his plans, and wondered at his
recent bouts of mysterious comments and secrecy, but soon my questions were
forgotten as I watched the city slide past me through the cab windows.
   *****
   When we arrived at the hotel I was mildly surprised to find that Katie
would be sharing a room with her parents, while Heather and I were
fortunate enough to have a room to ourselves.  The two rooms were part of a
larger suite, the bedrooms - each with their own bathroom - both attached
to a central gathering space.  The suite appeared to have been designed for
a family, as there were no doors between rooms, only a thin curtain.
   "Don't you think Dr.  Bergerud and Stacey might want some time
together?" I asked Heather quietly.
   "You mean some personal time?" she grinned back.
   "Something like that," I laughed.  "I guess I'd just thought that she
would have her own room or something."
   "Did you want to invite her over?" Heather asked slyly.  "We could you
know.  It would give her parents some time alone and besides, Katie seems
pretty nice to me."
   "She is," I answered.
   "Oh really?" Heather asked archly.  "And just what do you mean by that?
Are you trying to get her into bed?"
   "You know what I'm talking about," I said, trying not to turn crimson
with embarrassment.  "She helped out at school around the office and I have
to say it was great having her around instead of that substitute beast the
school arranged." I shivered with the memory of the horror.  "Besides,
you're the one who was so quick to invite her over!"
   "I was, wasn't I?" grinned Heather.  "You know, it's not a bad idea."
   "What isn't?" I asked carefully, remembering Heather's hint at a
threesome.
   "Inviting her over.  I'm sure the three of us could have some fun."
   "Fun?"
   "You know...  fun!" Heather leered.  "You know you think she's cute."
   "I...  I don't," I stammered but Heather cut me off with a quick kiss.
   "I do too," she said hotly and before I could respond Heather twirled
and walked away.
   *****
   The first two days of the Symposium were, for lack of a better word,
boring.  I had expected there to be more concert opportunities to attend,
and ended up being stuck listening to lecture after lecture instead.  Dr.
Bergerud himself commented that it wasn't quite as good as he remembered.
   "You should have been to the Symposium in Minneapolis," he commented
after one particularly dry lecture on atonal harmonies, which I had always
thought was an impossibility.  If a piece of music is atonal, it has no
melody, so how can there be harmony?
   "Why?" I asked.  "What was so good about it?"
   "There was a children's choir, from Bulgaria if I remember correctly. 
Magnificent!" He looked off wistfully into the distance, obviously
enraptured by the sheer memory.  Unable to help myself I burst into
laughter, drawing looks of disapproval from those around us.
   "Sorry," I said as I tried to rein in my giggles.  "You just looked
so... so happy!"
   "It was really good," he said.  "But you're probably right, I do tend to
go a little overboard with my praise."
   "Nah, that's okay," I shrugged.  "It's cool to see you so excited about
something.  If you don't mind me saying, you seemed a little burned out
toward the end of the school year."
   "I was," he signed.
   "Are you really thinking about leaving?" I asked.
   "Considering it," he said, nodding his head.  "I'm not sure though. 
I'll certainly be around for at least another year."
   "Good," I answered.  "I'd hate for you to leave before I get my degree."
   "That was something I wanted to discuss with you," Dr.  Bergerud said.
   "What do you mean?  Is there something wrong?"
   "No, no.  I just...  you do know that I've been at the University for
quite a long time, correct?"
   "Sure."
   "And that I am well-respected?"
   "I've never quite understood that," I joked.  "But I hear it's the
truth. Go on."
   "Twit," Dr.  Bergerud huffed.  "Maybe I don't want you..."
   "Want me to what?"
   "Daniel, I would like you to consider taking my position when I leave."
   "What?" I said in stunned amazement.  "You want me to...  what?" When I
had decided to return to school to earn my master's degree, I had done so
with an idea that I might go into teaching, but nothing had ever really
been settled in my mind.
   "Is that a problem?" he asked.
   "Do you...  are you sure?  Why?  Do you think I can handle something
like this?" I looked at him in something close to shock.  "Why?"
   "I tease you a lot, and I know I put you through quite an ordeal this
last year.  Trust me, I've never had a graduate assistant as well-prepared
as you, and I've never treated one so poorly as I have you."
   "What do you mean?  I thought it was okay.  Really busy, but doable."
   "That's what I mean.  Normally my graduate assistants will take a single
section of beginning music theory or history.  Didn't you think it odd that
you were teaching, or at least in charge of almost half my classes?"
   "You're a busy guy," I answered lamely, realizing belatedly that he was
right.  He had kept me busy, far busier than I'd expected.  "I suppose I
should ask for a raise, then?"
   "You deserve one, trust me," he agreed.  "That's part of the reason I
invited you on this trip.  First, it's a good experience, but second, I
think you needed a break and I felt it only right that the school paid for
it."
   "And you can do that?  Just like that?"
   "I do have some sway in the music department," he answered smugly.
   "That's because you're the department chair," I laughed, before a
thought occurred to me.  "Wait a minute, when you said you wanted me to
replace you, you didn't mean..."
   "No, certainly not that," he laughed.
   "Good," I sighed.
   "At least, not at first.  I certainly didn't start out that way."
   "How did you start?" I asked, curious to hear his history.  Dr. 
Bergerud had been mysterious about his past, and I hoped he might fill in
the blanks for me.  "Why did you come here?"
   "I had little choice," he said sadly.  "I...  when I was younger I found
myself in a compromising position and was forced to leave my job teaching
middle school music."
   "What happened?"
   "Nothing really.  Something happened with a student."
   "What kind of something?" I asked, more curious now than ever.
   "Something that placed me in an awkward position," he answered.  "No,
it's not what you're thinking.  I didn't touch a student.  I was...  well,
you don't need any details, but suffice it to say I wasn't always the
clean-cut, distinguished gentleman I am now."
   "Some might even argue that you're a gentleman now!" I laughed.  "But
what happened?  So you didn't get caught with your pants down...  what?"
   "I used to host an annual Halloween party at my house, and one day one
of my students found...  a certain book."
   "Something kinky?"
   "Yes."
   "Is that how you met your wife?" I asked.  "I know she works with
Heather at the club."
   "No," he laughed.  "Nothing like that.  We didn't meet for another ten
years or so, after I started teaching at the University."
   "Then what?"
   "I'm not going to go into details, but I was fired from my middle school
position and only the fact the school district itself wanted to keep the
scandal quiet allowed me to find a job so quickly."
   "And you want to go back to teaching kids?" I asked incredulously. 
"Will that be allowed?"
   "I was never charged with anything at all, and it's only because I've
loved my position at the college so much that's kept me here.  I would have
gone back to teaching middle school or high school music long ago."
   "Wow," I said.  "I don't know what to say."
   "No need to say anything," Dr.  Bergerud shrugged.  "Daniel, I trust
you'll keep this conversation private?"
   "Of course," I quickly answered.  "But...  I do have a question."
   "Yes?"
   "Why me?" I asked.  "I don't have any teaching experience, so why do you
think I can do it?"
   Dr.  Bergerud sat quietly for a moment before answering.
   "Because I see a lot of myself in you.  I see the same drive and energy,
even if you yourself don't always recognize it.  I see an excellent teacher
inside you.  All you need is a chance."
   "And you think this is that chance?"
   "The school and faculty know you.  You're popular with the students. 
You went to the school and live in the area.  I can't think of a better
opportunity," he answered.
   "Wow," I said again, unable to form any type of coherent sentence. 
"Thanks.  I mean...  I'm not accepting anything," I sputtered.
   "And you haven't been offered anything yet," he laughed.  "Just... 
consider the possibility.  One must always be open to new and interesting
possibilities," he trailed off quietly, again looking off into the
distance.
   "Uh...  sure," I answered.  "Thanks."
   Dr.  Bergerud shook his head suddenly, a smile growing on his face as he
reached out to slap me on the shoulder.
   "That's all I ask," he said.  The two of us had been standing in the
main lobby of the opera house, now nearly deserted after the last session
of the day.  I looked at my watch and saw it was well after seven o'clock.
   "What now?" I asked.  "Are we coming back for the evening concert?"
   "Do you want to?" he asked.
   "Not really," I said.  "Is that okay?"
   "Certainly!" he laughed.  "We're on our own schedule here.  No board of
trustees looking over our shoulders.  You feel like playing hooky tonight?"
   "Yes!" I answered quickly, relieved to have a free evening.
   "Good," he said.  The two of us quickly gathered our belongings and
hurried out of the building.  After a short walk back to the hotel and a
quick ride on the elevator we were at the front door to our suite.
   "Damn," he muttered, patting his pockets.  "Did I wear a coat this
morning?  I can't find my keys anywhere." Not waiting for an answer he
rapped his knuckles loudly against the door.
   "I've got mine," I said, inserting the key in the lock.  As the door
opened I heard a sharp cry and a scurrying of feet.
   "Honey, I'm home!" I called out laughingly, expecting to hear Heather
reply.  Instead there was only silence.
   "Where is everyone?" Dr.  Bergerud asked.  He sighed and turned to
leave. "I'm going to head back to the concert hall to pick up my keys."
   "See you in a few," I answered.
   I pushed the door inward only to find a darkened living room.  I checked
the room Heather and I were sharing, but it too was dark, leaving only Dr.
Bergerud's room.
   A sliver of light shone from under the curtain.  I pulled the curtain
aside and stood dumbfounded at what I saw.  There lay Stacey, Dr. 
Bergerud's wife, tied up and gagged in the middle of the bed.  She was
naked, a deep pink flush spreading over her chest and neck.  Her forehead
was beaded with sweat, which was dripping down onto the black mask covering
her eyes.
   A red plastic ball gag was forced in her mouth and I could see the
muscles of her jaw straining around it with each breath.  Her breathing was
ragged as she fought against what appeared to be fur-lined handcuffs
securing her to the sturdy wooden frame of the hotel bed.
   Hovering over her, a delirious look in her eyes, stood Heather.  She too
was naked and to my shock was holding a leather riding crop in her right
hand, held above her head in obvious preparation to bring down on Stacey's
pale skin.  Heather's left hand held a pink vibrator, its buzzing rising
and falling in intensity as she buried the dildo repeatedly in her pussy.
Even from the doorway I could hear the furious sucking sound as she thrust
the fake plastic penis into her wetness.
   "What the hell?" I blurted.  Heather turned, the look of passion on her
face quickly evaporating into surprise and then fear as she saw the look of
horror on my face.
   Without another word I turned and strode out of the room, my heart
pounding heavily in my chest.  On my way I bumped into Katie, who was in
the process of buttoning up a blouse, apparently in order to answer the
door.
   "Hey Dan," she said nervously, turning to look into the doorway.  I saw
a look of anxiety flicker over her features as she saw the scene I had been
presented with.  "What's up?" she asked, but I shook my head in anger.
   "Move," I said, pushing past her into the dimly lit corridor.
   I turned left immediately, wanting to take the stairs down to street
level.  Once in the stairwell I felt myself grow short of breath and
stopped in the middle of the hallway.  I leaned against a brick wall, the
cool texture of the damp concrete pressing against my forehead.
   Had I really seen what I thought I had seen?  The bedroom had been dark,
but there had been enough light shining through the window that I was
certain I was right.
   Heather had certainly hinted enough about an interest in girls and I
squinted my eyes in disappointment that I hadn't seen her hints for what
they really were.  Shaking my head in an attempt to dislodge the image from
my head I continued down the stairs and out into the warm Swedish evening.
   Not wanting to meet Dr.  Bergerud on his way back to the hotel, I turned
the opposite direction and began walking aimlessly through Stockholm.  As I
walked along the river I suddenly found myself in the city's brothel
district, and for a moment considered taking out my anxiety and angst by
hiring a hooker for a quick romp, but put the thought out of my head.
   After an hour or two my anger had mostly dissipated and I began working
my way back to the hotel.  Unsure as to what I might find I carefully
unlocked the door.  The lights were off in the main room and I noticed
immediately that the curtain was pulled tightly across the entryway into
the Bergerud's sleeping room.  I wondered briefly if I might be left alone
for the evening, but when I pulled the curtain aside and looked into the
room Heather and I were sharing I saw that was not the case.
   "You were home early," Heather said softly, although I wasn't sure if
that was supposed to be an apology or an excuse for catching her in her
activities.  Either way, she looked miserable, cuddled up on the bed,
wrapped in a blanket.  I could see the tear tracks on her cheeks and for a
moment all I wanted to do was take her in my arms to comfort her.
   But then a flash of anger hit me and once again I felt myself grow cold
at the memory of her betrayal.  What gave her the right to use me like
this?
   "I'll be in the living room," I said harshly, grabbing a pillow and
blanket from the bed, not caring if I disturbed Heather as she sat there.
"If you want to talk, you know where to find me."
   The sight of Heather, crumpled over on the bed, sobs wracking her
shoulders was the last thing I saw as I turned to the living room.  I
wasn't proud of myself, but I had done what I thought was right. 
Unfortunately sleep was slow in coming that evening.  I stayed awake,
hoping in a part of my mind that Heather might make an appearance, but she
stayed in our room.
   Eventually, finally, I fell asleep.
   End Part 8
  
Rose8