What would happen if a bunch of ordinary, every-day sexual education
teachers ended up at the wrong seminar, where, instead of learning how to
teach sex ed, they were taught how to have a more meaningful sexual
relationship?  What if all of them were between relationships, or in
failing ones?  How would they react?  They might react just like the
teenagers they're supposed to be teaching.

   ========================================================

   Author's comment: Some people, when they pick up a book, ignore the
foreword, or prelude, if there is one.  They want to get right to the
story. Don't do that with this story.  The prelude provides critical
information for the understanding of the plot.

   This is a complicated story, because of the number of characters in it,
and the fact that all of them were taking small steps forward at the same
time.  It may seem disjointed, at first, but, as you get to know the
characters, it will get a little easier.  I made a separate file for a list
of characters, and a separate chapter called "The Participants", which may
be reviewed at any point as you read the story, to refresh you on who
people are, and what their background is.  Additionally, I have attempted
to make it a little more "reader friendly" by giving each chapter a title
that will identify the primary characters in it.  Some chapters are very
short, and some are very long.  It was just how things had to be, to
present the story in a way that, hopefully, flows well.  Thanks for your
patience.

   ========================================================
Cast:
Instructor: Bob Nivens - age 35 Gives seminars to booked groups on how
to spice up their married life.

   Participants

   Tiffany Jones - age 24, single, ex-cheerleader, college romance faded
when she went to teach, and her boyfriend stayed in school.

   Charles Bradshaw - age 28, single, shy, has thing for cheerleaders. 
Several women dropped him because he wanted to role play.  He coaches
football and teaches sex ed.

   Roberta Tinsdale - age 27, married to Phillip, an overachiever who is
never home.  She teaches speech and sex ed.

   Jeff Watts - age 24, married to Melanie, who went home to mommy when she
found out what his salary was going to be, and that she'd have to
economize. He teaches art and sex ed.

   Crystal Smith - age 30, divorced, went back to school and got a teaching
degree after the divorce to change her life.  Tall enough that she has a
hard time finding men.

   Woody Buckholtz - age 26, single, just coming out of a failed
relationship with Mandy where he wanted things to be more serious than she
did.  Fitness buff, who likes to ballroom dance.  Teaches health and sex
ed.

   Jane Watson - age 25, engaged to Jed Buchannan, back home in West
Virginia, but not feeling the thrill about it.  Teaches history and sex ed.

   Roger Zowalski - age 42, widower for ten years.  Didn't want to do the
dating thing and only goes out on "safe" dates.  Gray at the temples. 
Teaches Social Studies and sex ed.

   Lori Simpson - age 23, single, farm girl, virgin, lived all her life
with strict parents who scared her to death about disease and being labeled
as a slut.  She's finished an all girls college, and is on her way to her
first job as a teacher.  She'll be teaching sex ed and doesn't know what
else.

   =======================================================

   Prelude

   Belinda Hampton looked at the pile of papers on her desk and sighed. 
When she'd taken the job at the State Department of Education, she'd
thought she was getting into one of those cushy state jobs, where she
wouldn't have to work that hard, and wouldn't have to worry about job
security.  Everybody said that.  State jobs are like the goose that laid
the golden eggs.  And, during the interview, when she was offered the spot
as "head" of the Continuing Education Office, she was quite sure she'd be
playing with golden eggs very soon.

   So far, though, the goose hadn't laid any golden eggs.  The goose hadn't
laid any eggs at all, for that matter.  She'd been shown to a desk in the
Continuing Education office, which sounded important, but was, in
actuality, only a twelve by twelve room full of file cabinets and a desk
piled high with papers.  There was a computer, but all the good sites were
blocked.

   The previous occupant of the chair she was sitting in had gotten
pregnant, and her water had broken much sooner than anyone anticipated. 
Then there were complications, and she had to be hospitalized.  But the
business of education insisted on rambling on, which was why Belinda was
hired with only a cursory glance at her resume, which was heavily padded.
That she had lied about having a college degree was, ironically offset by
the fact that they misrepresented things to Belinda as well.  There had
never been more than one person in the CE office, and there was no one to
be "head" over.  They were desperate, though.  The previous two applicants
had wanted to see the office, and promptly walked out when it was shown to
them.

   Belinda, though, hadn't thought of that.  With stars in her eyes, she
had stood, smiled, shaken hands, and said she'd be there.  Then she'd gone
out and bought herself a brand new Mustang, to celebrate.  Now, she was
trapped.  If she gave up the car, it would ruin her barely established
credit rating.  And so, she came to work every day and shuffled papers,
trying to learn the job that she was already supposed to be experienced at.

   She picked up a paper off the top of the "important" pile.  She had
learned it was "important" by not processing the papers in that pile fast
enough.  As a result, several teachers, scheduled to do continuing
education, hadn't been able to do so.  That sometimes, she found out, put
their jobs at risk, and made a whole LOT of people very angry.

   As a result, Belinda had a tendency now, to approve just about anything.
What did she care?  All those teachers were making more money than she was,
and they could even get tenure, which she had thought she'd have
immediately, and then found out wasn't even on the table, as far as
administrative staff were concerned.  She had to complete her probationary
period successfully, and could be fired at any time, for any reason, until
she did so.

   She looked at the paper in her hand.  It was for a continuing education
seminar for teachers who taught sexual education.  She snorted.  Who needed
continuing education on sex?  All you had to do was hang out in a bar for
an hour, and wear the right clothing, and you could get all the sex you
wanted.  Even if you looked like Belinda Hampton!

   Her job was to make all the travel arrangements, and book hotel rooms
for things like this.  The teachers came from all over the state, so that
meant she had to see to these details for all nine teachers on the list. 
That could take hours.  She sighed, and then brightened when the
description of "The Hall Conference Center" said that rooms were provided
at the seminar.  That solved THAT problem.  She peered at the paper.  No
address.  That sucked.

   She got on the internet and Googled "Halle Conference Center".  She
wasn't much of a typist, and didn't notice she added an "e" to the name
"Hall".  When only two hits came up she decided it was her lucky day.  The
one she wanted was obviously the one in Phoenix, Arizona, since the other
one had to do with the culinary arts.

   She was further delighted to learn a few minutes later, only one flight
left Boise that would connect through Denver to Phoenix.  All the teachers
would get there on the same plane.  Now all she had to do was get them all
to Boise for that flight, and she could go on to another piece of paper. 
Of course she had to send the electronic registration and payment for the
seminar, but that was the easy part.  She could send electronic checks for
thousands of dollars with just a few touches to her keyboard.  She knew
there had to be a way to send herself some of that money, but she hadn't
figured out how yet.  Somebody, somewhere, checked on that, because she got
yelled at for putting in a wrong amount one time.

   Now, where was the information on the seminar itself?  She looked at the
paper, but all it said was "Sexual Education Continuing Education Seminar."
Damn.  Now she'd have to go talk to Fredericka, which was never any fun.

   She clicked a few buttons on the computer, which took her to the Halle
Resort and Conference Center website.  There was a tab for "Upcoming
Attractions".  There it was: "Seminar on Human Interaction and Sexual
Relations".  Why did they have to use such fancy bullshit for "Sexual
Education".  It didn't matter.  What mattered was that she could register
them all right there, on line.  She wouldn't have to talk to Fredericka
after all.

   The only other thing about this application that seemed odd, was the
requirement that each participant had to submit a blood sample, a week in
advance of the conference, to an address listed on the website.  That meant
she had to notify the attendees quickly, and that thought pushed everything
else out of her mind.

   She got to work.

   ======================================

   Three weeks later, sixty-one of the expected seventy teachers arrived at
the Hall Conference Center, in Indianapolis Indiana, and took part in an
updated series of sessions, for sexual education teachers, that were
secretly sponsored by a right to life organization.  The emphasis was on
teaching abstinence.  Sixty-one teachers rolled their eyes at each other,
and doodled on napkins while various instructors told them things they
wanted to laugh at.  They considered the nine teachers who hadn't shown up
as being very lucky.

   ======================================

   The Sexual Education Blues By Beating Off Bob



   Chapter One: The Participants

   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.

   ===================================================

   Chapter Two: The arrival

   The Halle Resort and Conference Center was located outside Phoenix, ten
miles into the desert.  It had been built on land formerly owned by a man
who raised cattle.  His ancestors had claimed the land based on an artesian
well, and blood was spilled to keep it.  That violent past was nowhere in
sight as nine teachers exited a resort shuttle bus that had been sent to
pick them up at the airport, and deliver them to the Julia Halle wing of
the resort.

   Named after the builder's mother, the Julia Halle wing was a self
contained unit that could literally be called an oasis in the middle of an
inhospitable desert.  It consisted of a series of adobe-faced rooms, that
led off like two odd looking legs from a central meeting area.  Everything
was air conditioned, of course, and guests were reminded of that as they
left their rooms, to enter a covered walkway that surrounded the pool,
which was between the meeting area's legs.  Up against the outside wall of
the meeting area was an outside bar, a sauna, which many people looked at
oddly, since it was in the middle of a desert, and a large hot tub, which
also seemed a little odd in the desert.

   What visitors were unaware of was that temperatures in the desert can
get quite chilly during the hours of darkness, when the baking sun is
absent.  Anyone who stayed longer than a day or two soon found that the
pool was for daytime, and the sauna and hot tub were for night time.

   Other small "compounds" were associated with the center.  The central
meeting and check-in building was the center of a group of buildings in
which tourists had one area, and chartered groups had three others.  Each
area had its own conveniences, and a certain amount of relative privacy,
allowing groups to gather as groups, without a lot of strangers hanging
around them.

   No water was wasted on grass or gardens.  What grew around the Halle
Center were the plants that thrived in that environment.  The sun's energy
was put to work in a lot of ways, from solar heating of all water used on
the premises, to generation of electricity, and even to imbuing in the
center's linens that unmistakable smell of sheets dried in the sun and made
soft as silk by flapping in the wind.

   The little group of teachers were somewhat in awe of what they saw. 
This place was obviously ritzy, based on the accoutrements.  When they
entered the meeting hall, they found it housed multiple meeting rooms, on
both upper and lower floors.  Thus far, the trip had already been
educational, at least for some of them.

   Responding to a sign, held by a liveried driver, the group had begun
identifying each other as they collected their baggage, and hurried toward
the bus, afraid they might be left behind if they lagged.  They needn't
have worried.  Manuel, the driver, had a list, and was an expert at making
sure everyone who was supposed to be picked up WAS picked up.

   The first to learn something, were Crystal Smith and Woody Buckholtz,
who had sat beside each other on the plane, completely unaware that they
were headed for the same place.  Woody had, indeed, tried to engage Crystal
in conversation, several times in fact.  The first time had been when she
ignored his greeting and began to "read" her book.  A few seconds later,
she turned the book right side up.  Woody had noticed it was upside down,
and was thinking about how badly she must want to ignore him to pretend to
read that way.  Then she suddenly righted the book, and opened it in the
middle, instead of the "beginning" she had been pretending to read the
first time.  Woody had mentioned that he had to start books over all the
time, because by the time he got to the middle, he'd forgotten the
beginning.  Crystal, embarrassed that he'd seen her flustered behavior, had
ignored him.

   He'd gone to the bathroom, or somewhere, twice during the flight, and
spoke to her each time he came back.  The first time she stared steadily at
the book.  She'd been reading the same paragraph, over and over, because
she couldn't concentrate.  The man, damn his eyes, smelled good.  The
second time she glanced at him, and then went back to reading.

   It hadn't been odd that he followed her to the baggage carousel, or that
he offered to carry her bag, which she had also ignored.  When their bags
had come off at the same time, that hadn't seemed odd either.  But, when he
began following her to the bus, she finally turned to him and said:

   "Look, I'm here on business, and I'm not interested, OK?"

   He'd looked at her strangely, and continued to the bus, leaving her
standing there.  When she saw him speak with the driver, who checked
something on a clipboard, and then get on the bus, she felt mortified.  She
even waited until two more people had gotten on the bus, before she
approached it herself.

   She found the man, who had introduced himself as Woody, sitting in the
second seat behind the driver's seat.  He smiled, and patted the seat
beside him.

   "I saved you a place," he said cheerfully.  "I mean, we did so well on
the plane, I thought you might want to keep not talking to me here on the
bus."

   He didn't look like he was trying to make her feel bad.  He just acted
like the whole thing was one big joke to him.  To her immediate surprise,
she sank down beside him.

   "I'm sorry," she mumbled.  "I didn't know."

   "It's OK," he said, looking out the window.  "My sister says I scare
lots of women."

   He hadn't said another word for the whole bus ride.

   =====================

   Chuck Bradshaw also got an education, or at least his wish.  As he
picked a seat on the bus, and sat down, he was treated to a familiar silk
blouse, and short skirt, being worn by a woman whose backside was still
etched firmly in his memory.  The front looked even better, he decided, as
she walked down the aisle, heading for an empty seat.  He decided that, if
he ever fell off a building, he wanted those breasts on the ground, under
him, when he hit.  He felt a little thrill as she smiled at him, but she
kept on going down the aisle past him.

   =====================

   Roger Zowalski got a surprise too.  He was the last one on the bus,
because his bag didn't show up until the very end, for some reason.  When
he got on, there was only one seat left vacant.  There were three "two
person" seats down each side of the bus, with a long seat that went across
the back.  All six of the short seats occupied.  One had two people in it,
an extraordinarily tall woman, and a man who looked like a tennis pro,
instead of a teacher.  As he walked toward the long seat in the back, he
was amazed to see little miss braces sitting on that seat, hugged against
the window.  She was looking out the window, through her glasses, which
were at least ten years out of date, and looked hot in her long sleeved,
dowdy clothing.  He thought back to the sign the driver had held.  It had
said, simply "Halle Center Human Relations Seminar".  He had assumed, just
as all the others had, that discretion was being used.  After all, sex was
the epitome of "human relations".  It was a natural pun ...  to be
expected. Now he wondered if there might be some other conference going on.
There was no way this girl was a teacher.  He decided it didn't matter. 
This bus was going to the Halle Center, and that's where he wanted to go.
He sat down, wondering if any of the other passengers were teachers.

   =========================

   They were all delivered to the same building, and herded by Manuel into
a little gaggle in front of the check-in desk.  The clerk looked up from
his computer and smiled.

   "And you all must be the teachers from Idaho.  Welcome to the Julia
Halle Conference Center.  I hope your stay here will be both informative
and pleasant.  My name is Christopher, and I am here to make your stay
comfortable.  Let me just get the rooms assigned, and then I have a
questionnaire for you to fill out that Mr.  Nivens asked me to give you. 
You're to bring that with you when the conference starts, tomorrow morning.
That will be in room 2A, which is right over there." He pointed and smiled.
"Just about anything else you need to know is covered in the material in
each room.  You have the rest of the day to relax and look around.  If any
of you need transportation into Phoenix, there are usually taxis out
front."

   He looked at Tiffany expectantly.  When she didn't say anything he said
"Name?"

   "Oh!" she said, her cheeks pinking up.  "Jones ...  Tiffany Jones."

   "Ah, yes," said Christopher smoothly.  "I have you in the desert rose
room.  If I may be so bold, it fits perfectly." He handed her a key on a
silver chain.

   Christopher was equally complimentary to all the others, Roger saw, as
he checked them in.  Roger hung back, looking on in shock as the girl
stepped up to the desk when it was her turn.

   "Lori Simpson," she said clearly.  "I'm twenty-three and I'm a teacher."

   "Well, Miss Simpson," oozed Christopher's cultured voice.  "It is Miss,
I assume."

   Roger saw the girl's head jerk, as if she'd been struck.  "Yes," she
said tentatively.

   "Well, Miss Simpson," said Christopher.  "There's no accounting for
taste.  Obviously a number of men have been very foolish to let you slip
away.  I've put you in the Lilac room." He handed her her key and looked
past her at Roger.

   "And you must be Mister Zowalski.  Did they send you down here to ride
herd on all the youngsters?"

   "You complimented everyone else," pointed out Roger.

   "They look like babies," said Christopher, who could only have been in
his thirties, at the very most.  "Who'd have thought that our teachers were
so young?  I never had any teachers who looked like them." He smiled, to
show he was just chatting.  "It's nice to know there's someone with a
little maturity out there, showing them the ropes."

   "You get pretty good tips, don't you?" asked Roger, grinning.

   "I put myself through college doing this," said Christopher, grinning
now.

   "Really?  What was your major?" asked Roger.

   "Elementary Education," said Christopher, his face dead pan.  "I found
out during my student teaching that I hate kids."

   Roger took his key, still laughing.  He had been put in the Saguaro
room.

   ===================================

   The group, once they had taken their luggage to their rooms, gravitated
toward the dining room, which had a buffet style offering.  Several of them
had brought their surveys with them, to look over and fill out while they
ate.  There were tables of all sizes in the dining room, and they almost
shyly assembled at one that seated twelve.

   Introductions were made, as people got their food and sat down.  Roger
was the last to come in and sit down.  The younger teachers deferred to him
automatically.  They went around the table, saying their names, and where
they were from.  He looked at the tall one, who had said her name was
Crystal, and the tennis pro, who called himself Woody.

   "I thought you two came from the same school," he said.  "I saw you
sitting on the bus together."

   Woody spoke before Crystal could say anything.

   "Sat together on the plane.  It was totally by accident.  Kind of weird,
huh?"

   Crystal realized that he could have gone on and on about how he'd tried
to get her to talk to him, and how she'd snubbed him repeatedly.  But he
didn't do that.  When he'd sat beside her at this very table, all he'd said
was "Hi" again.  He was obviously friendly, but not in the predatory way
she was used to.

   "I saw Miss Simpson get on the plane," said Roger.  "But I sure didn't
think she was part of our group."

   Lori sat up straight.  "I'm a teacher," she said, her voice loud.

   "Of course you are," said Roger patiently.  "You just look very young,
that's all."

   "I'm twenty-three!" she said firmly.

   "I'm not picking on you," said Roger calmly.  "I'm just pointing out
that, had I seen all of you, I doubt I would have pegged any of you as
teachers.  I just find that interesting, that's all." He looked at Woody.
"For example, I thought you might be a tennis pro."

   That got titters from some of the people.  He turned to Chuck.  "And I'm
guessing you're a coach."

   Chuck nodded.  Roger looked at Jane.

   "You're quite possibly the only one of us that I'd have thought might be
a teacher.  You have that look of competence about you."

   Jane blushed.  She'd been eyeing Roger ever since he sat down.  It
wasn't that he looked like her father ...  he just reminded her of the man
she had on the highest pedestal in her life.  There were clear differences.
He had lines around his eyes that suggested he smiled a lot.  Her father
didn't smile much at all.  And, his demeanor was much more friendly than
her father's would have been in this situation.

   "Thank you," she said softly.

   "I'm not trying to make any bold statement or anything," said Roger,
picking up his fork.  "I just think that we all carry around
preconceptions, and sometimes those are wrong." He smiled.  "I've been in
this business long enough that you all look pretty young to me.  That
doesn't mean you aren't talented, or capable, and I need to remind myself
of that occasionally."

   The conversation lagged, as everyone began to eat.  Then it picked up
again, as teachers, like they do everywhere, began talking about their
schools, and their administrators, and what was wrong with both.

   It picked up again when Roberta, who had been scanning the survey she'd
brought with her, spoke.

   "Have you all actually looked at this?" She held it up.  "It's very
strange, if you ask me."

   No one had.  The other two people who'd brought theirs picked them up.

   Roberta read off a question.

   "How many lovers have you had since you became sexually active?"

   That got some attention.

   "Why in the world would they need to know that?" asked Chuck.

   "Here's another one," said Tiffany, looking at her survey.  "How many
different positions do you like to use when making love?" She looked up. 
"What the hell is THAT all about?"

   Roger looked over at the survey Roberta was holding.

   "Looks to me like they're trying to get a dialogue going.  Isn't that
what sex ed is all about?  Dialogue?  We're trying to get kids to talk to
each other, instead of just making out and letting nature take its course."

   "You mean it's some kind of test," suggested the man who had called
himself Jeff.  "To see if we're comfortable talking about intimate things."

   "Something like that," said Roger.  He read another question, and his
eyebrows rose.  "Then again, I don't know.  Take a gander at question
number fourteen."

   People's heads bent, almost touching each other, as the three with
surveys shared.  Question fourteen said: "Have you ever used a dildo or
other sex toy with your partner?"

   Lori gasped, and looked shocked.

   "You think maybe Christopher gave us the wrong survey?" asked Woody. 
"This is pretty outrageous, if you ask me."

   "You can say that again," said Crystal, whose shoulder was touching his
as they leaned together to look at the survey.

   "This is pretty outrageous, if you ask me," said Woody, dutifully.  He
grinned.  He was the only one, apparently, who thought it was funny.

   "It probably is the wrong survey," said Jane.  "They can't ask us stuff
like this.  It isn't right."

   Roger looked at her.  She looked embarrassed.  That made him wonder why
she was embarrassed.  Was it because she did some of the things there were
questions about?  He looked at her more closely.  The initial impression
one got was that she was young.  That was because of her diminuitive size.
But her face looked fully mature.  She had that mysterious aura around her
of a passionate woman.  There were little things she did, like stroking the
table cloth with her fingertips, that suggested she was sensual.  She
wasn't beautiful in a classic sense, but then, Roger had seen glamour shots
of some of his senior girls, and what the makeup and hairdo had done was
nothing short of astonishing.  So he knew this woman could, if she chose
to, become beautiful.  While she was small, she didn't have the same
childish attitude as the one with braces did.  He looked at another
question or two, and then back at Jane, wondering if she did any of the
things being questioned.  He glanced at her finger, and saw no ring.

   Just then she looked at him, and he saw her eyes stray to his temples.
They came back to his, and she smiled tentatively.

   "We'll work it all out in the morning," he said.  "I suppose it wouldn't
hurt to fill the things out, and then keep them private until we find out
what the deal is.  We can always destroy them later."

   "I can't fill this out." Lori's voice sounded like she was being asked
to eat the dead.

   "Then don't," said Roger, simply.  "Like I said, we'll get this all
worked out in the morning.  Now.  I think I'm going to try out that pool."

   He got up and pulled Jane's chair out for her.  She smiled her thanks.

   "Might I interest you in a short swim?" he asked, bowing.

   "That would be nice," she said softly.  "But I don't own a swim suit. 
Back home we always swam in cutoffs, or ..." She didn't finish.

   "Ahhh," said Roger, smiling.  "I remember skinny dipping with a great
deal of happiness myself." He frowned much more fiercely than his voice
supported.  "I suspect they'd frown on that here at this fancy resort."

   Jane was blushing beet red.  "Oh I could NEVER do that ...  not any
more."

   "Pity," said Roger, bowing again.  "I rather suspect I'd have enjoyed
remembering that too."

   Jane flushed even harder.  "Oh, you're just AWFUL!" she said, her voice
half moaning and half chiding.

   "Tell you what," he said, his voice becoming serious.  "I'll bet you
twenty-five cents that this fine establishment has a selection of swimming
wear available to those guests who ...  forgot theirs.  If they do, will
you take a quick dip with me?  I might need someone to pull me out if I
have a heart attack or something."

   Jane goggled at him.  "You're not THAT old," she said.

   "May I take that as a yes?" he asked.

   Jane felt a flutter in her belly.  He was so different than her father,
but so similar in appearance.  He was handsome, and friendly and surely
harmless.  Her eyes drifted to his hand and she saw the shine of gold on
his third finger.

   "What would your wife say about you inviting a strange woman to swim
with you?" she asked, archly.  She saw the flicker on his face, and he
closed down a little.

   "I wish she could yell at me," he said softly.  "I lost her ten years
ago, and I'd give anything to hear her again, even if she was mad at me."

   "Oh, I'm so sorry," said Jane, feeling horrible.

   "Life goes on," he said.  "I still think of her sometimes, but it's not
so hard now."

   Jane made a decision.

   "Let's go see Christopher.  Maybe you're right."

   ===============================

   Crystal and Woody stood from the table at the same time.  She looked at
him, but he wasn't looking at her.  She was curious.  He acted like he was
interested in her, but then he acted like he didn't know she was alive. 
Maybe he WAS just trying to be friendly.

   "I'm ...  uh ...  sorry about being so antisocial on the plane," she
said, as a peace offering.

   "That's OK," he said, without any rancor.  "My friends all say I talk
too much.  I guess I like talking.  You want to get a drink?"

   Crystal analyzed his comments.  He'd glanced at her, but not in that way
that men looked a woman over.  He was just talking ...  something he
confessed he liked to do.  She hadn't just sat and talked with anybody in a
long time.  His offer of a drink didn't sound like a come-on.  That made
her curious too.  She hadn't had a drink in a long time either.

   "OK," she said, surprising herself.

   They went to the bar beside the pool.  It was a nice night, and there
didn't seem to be as many bugs around as there were back home.  He ordered
a whisky sour.  The last drink she could remember having was a sloe gin
fizz, back in college, so that's what she ordered.

   "How long you been teaching?" asked Woody.

   That surprised her too, along with his next four or five questions,
which were all about her.  Most men liked to talk about themselves, but he
listened to everything she said.  She found herself telling him much more
than she'd intended to, about her failed marriage, and going back to school
to make a new start.

   They were interrupted by Jeff Watts, who came up and invited himself to
sit with them.  He ordered ginger ale.

   "Quite a place," he commented.

   "A lot fancier than anyplace else I ever stayed," agreed Woody.

   They talked about inconsequential things for ten minutes, when they were
joined by Charles, who, like Jeff, invited himself to sit with them.  He
ordered sour mash whiskey, straight, and took tiny sips, relishing the
taste.

   They began trading teaching stories, and were in the midst of laughing
about those when Tiffany and Roberta walked up together.

   "Join the crowd," offered Woody, moving away from Crystal to let them
approach the bar.  "We're telling war stories about our profession."

   Tiffany ordered white wine and Roberta said she just wanted a Coke.

   All of them had sat around the teachers lounge, at one time or another,
and talked to other teachers.  But in those situations, there was always an
undercurrent of local school politics and policies, as there is in any
bureaucratic institution.  Here, though, there was no concern over what
would get back to another teacher, or the administration, and it was a lot
more relaxed.  There were no romantic pairings, either, which put them all
on a level playing field.  They found it invigorating to be able to say
whatever was on their minds, and were soon chatting and laughing like
they'd known each other much longer than a short afternoon.

   Crystal was in the process of telling a story about a girl who had
started her period ...  in class ...  on the same day the lesson plan
called for discussion of the female's menstrual cycle.  The girl had been
wearing jeans, and by the time she realized what was happening, they were
stained.  It had been a horrifying experience for both the girl and
Crystal, back then, but now, it was hilarious.  She had just gotten to the
point where she was going to tell them how she handled the class, after the
girl had been excused to go take care of her problem, when she was
interrupted by Roger, dragging Jane to the pool.

   All of them could clearly hear Jane trying to tell Roger that her swim
suit wasn't acceptable, and all of them saw him tug at the towel she was
covered with, exposing a bright yellow bikini.

   Woody, Jeff and Charles did what boys do everywhere.  They signaled
their appreciation for a good looking woman with whistles and catcalls.

   =================================

   Roger had taken Jane to Christopher, who was just about to go off shift.
He had smiled at their request.

   "Of course we can handle that.  We have a variety of new suits we keep
on hand just for this eventuality."

   He took Jane to a back room, eyed her up and down, in a most
disconcerting fashion, and started opening drawers in a large cabinet
system on the wall.

   "Size six ...  right?" he asked, peering into a drawer.

   "Uh ...  yes," said Jane, surprised he could know that.

   "One or two piece?" he asked.

   "Um ...  one, I think," said Jane.  Events were unfolding much faster
than she was used to, and she was having a hard time thinking about what to
do.

   "Can't do that," said Christopher.  "Not in a one piece.  The smallest I
have is a ten, and you'd fall out of that."

   "Oh my," said Jane.  "I've never worn a two piece.  Where I come from
that would be a scandal." She didn't think about the fact that, while
swimming naked was fine, a bikini crossed the line, somehow.

   Christopher turned around and looked at her.  He cocked his head to one
side.

   "You've definitely got the body for a bikini," he said, as if he were
saying she'd look good in brown.  "I've got some here that are reasonably
modest."

   Jane didn't know what to do.  She felt some attraction for Roger, even
though she knew she was just fantasizing, and that that fantasy involved
her father.  She wanted to spend some time with him.  What if he went
swimming without her?  She didn't want to sit on the side of the pool and
yell at him, just to have a discussion.  She held out her hand and gulped
when Christopher pulled out a bright yellow bunch of cloth.  It still had
tags hanging from it, and he bit them off with his teeth.  When he handed
the pile of yellow cloth to her, it felt awfully light in her hands.  It
was a small pile too.

   Christopher saw the doubt in her eyes.

   "Miss ...  Watson ...  isn't it?" She nodded and he went on.  "I'm a pro
at this.  You'll look good in this suit.  I promise.  It may be a bit more
brief than you're used to, but nobody will notice that.  By today's
standards, this suit is quite modest.  I promise you that too." He smiled.
"Besides, you'll be in the water anyway, right?"

   "I guess so," said Jane, staring at the yellow cloth.  The color WOULD
go well with her black hair.  She knew yellow was a good color for both her
hair and her skin tone, which was a mellow tan shade because she spent as
much time outdoors as she could.  She'd always been tanned.

   She took the suit and met Roger, who smiled when he saw she'd found
something.  He walked her to her room, and then said he'd change and come
back.

   When she got the suit on, and looked in the mirror, her tan darkened
considerably, taking on a rosy glow, from the tops of her breasts all the
way to her forehead.  If THIS was modest, by today's standards, she
wondered what the immodest women wore!  The main reason she was a size six
was because of her breasts, which were mere swells of flesh that stuck out
more because of the muscle under them, than because there was any breast
flesh to protrude.  Her nipples had always been her curse, thrusting out
proudly, even though she wasn't proud of them.  They were very dark, very
large, and usually stiff, even when she wasn't excited.  She had to wear
the thickest bras, just to mask them.

   This suit didn't mask them at all, even though the top was loose.  There
was no padding in the bra.  Her hips stretched the fabric of the panty so
that there was not a single ripple in it.  That part wasn't too bad, since
it covered her whole mons, transitioning into sides that were three inches
wide.  It pulled up between the pussy lips she loved to pull at in the dark
of night, and she tugged, trying to get that part smooth.  The dip wasn't
completely gone, but it wasn't as pronounced.  The top covered most of her
breasts too, though that wasn't hard, really.  The problem was that the
suit advertised everything she DID have, and did it shamelessly.  She
looked critically at her upper body.  She thought she looked like a boy
there.

   She turned sideways, and saw that she had the smallest of pooches on her
belly, just above the waistband of the suit.  She let her hair down from
the bun she usually wore it in, and it fell, straight and thick to the
middle of her back.  She pulled it around to lie over her breasts, but that
just made it look like she was topless, except for the tiny bit of yellow
between her breasts.

   She'd lied to Roger.  She DID own a swimsuit, the one piece suit she'd
mentioned to Christopher.  She'd gotten it in college, but hadn't worn it
more than twice.  It didn't fit her well, and she was embarrassed to be
seen in it.

   Just then someone thumped on the door and she jumped.

   "Ready?" came Roger's voice through the door.

   She dashed to the bathroom, and got one of the big, luxurious towels the
center supplied and wrapped it around her.  The thumping came again and she
ran to the door and opened it, about to tell him the suit wouldn't work. 
She was unprepared for him to reach in through the door and take her wrist.

   "Come on!" he said.  "Let's go get wet!"

   "Roger!" she complained, barely able to close the door behind her as he
pulled her toward the pool.  "This suit is too small!"

   "Good!" he said, a smile in his voice.  He was wearing baggies, and was
bare-chested, a towel in his other hand.  "I like looking at pretty women
in suits too small."

   "But I can't appear in PUBLIC like this!" she whined.

   "You're a grown woman!" said Roger, pulling her along.  "We're all
adults here."

   By then they were at the edge of the pool.  Jane looked around, only to
see what looked like the rest of their group at the bar.  All the faces
were pointed her way.

   "They're watching!" she hissed, jerking her wrist from his grasp.

   "Who cares?" asked Roger.  "Look at me ...  old and fat ...  and I don't
care."

   Jane did look at him.  He looked neither old, nor fat, though he did
have a comfortable layer of thickness all over him that suggested his days
of bodybuilding had been left behind, and his muscles were beginning to
droop a bit.

   "I care," she moaned, turning to go back to her room.

   Roger reached out and grasped the bottom of the towel, where it crossed
the back of her thighs.  He gave a jerk downward, and it pulled from her
hand, where she had been holding it closed, at her breasts.  Her automatic
response was to turn around and glare at him.

   "Too late!" He grinned.  "Now the whole world has already seen you."

   There was a ruckus at the bar as three men whistled, and three women
began to tell those men how crude they were.

   Jane froze.  Nobody had ever whistled at her before.  Philllip had told
her she was beautiful, but he'd been in the process of getting her to have
sex with him, and she had later discounted his words as a ploy.  Having
other men make appreciative, if impolite sounds, put her in a world she'd
never been in before.

   The water was right there.  Her room was clear over THERE!

   She took three steps and dove into the security of the water.

   Roger watched her buttocks bounce as she took her three steps, dropped
both towels on a nearby chair, and followed her in.

   What both felt was water that, when the sun was baking everything, would
have been delightfully cool and refreshing.  But, with the evening outside
temperature at a very comfortable sixty-eight degrees, the water felt
freezing to them both.

   They surfaced, gasping, and treaded water, facing each other.

   "That was terrible!" chided Jane.

   "I didn't realize it would be this cold," said Roger, ignoring her.

   "It isn't cold ...  it's freezing!" she complained.

   Roger propelled himself in a circle.  "There's a sauna right over there.
We had our swim.  Now let's go get warm, while we dry off."

   Jane was beginning to shiver.  She didn't have an extra ounce of fat on
her body.  She'd never been in a sauna before, but she knew they were
supposed to be hot, and hot would feel really good right now.

   "OK," she said, abandoning her attempt to correct Roger's misbehavior.

   They levered themselves out of the pool, side by side.  Jane's body was
fairly launched from the pool as her strong arms propelled her light body
up onto the deck.  Roger, heavier, was less graceful, and felt some of his
age as she held out a hand to help him stand up.

   They ran for the sauna, detouring to grab towels.

   =================================

   At the bar, Tiffany, Roberta and Crystal vigorously defended Jane's
honor by berating the men.  It was all in good fun, and all six of them
knew it.  The men took it as a challenge to their manhood, and they turned
their attention on the women trying to correct their behavior.

   "We're not being crude!" said Woody, grinning.  "We're being
appreciative!"

   "Complimentary!" added Jeff, also grinning.

   "Paying homage to feminine beauty!" said Charles, not to be left out.

   "Men only think of one thing!" snorted Tiffany, signaling the bartender
for another drink.

   "Two things, in your case," said Chuck, looking at Tiffany's bulging
blouse.

   "I beg your pardon!" she said, her voice tight.

   "Just kidding," he said, looking away.

   "No you weren't," interjected Roberta.  "You were looking right at her
breasts when you said that."

   "I didn't mean to hurt her feelings," said Chuck.

   "I'm quite aware that men look at my breasts all the time," said
Tiffany. "That's the point.  The first thing men do is make women into
sexual objects."

   "Oh, come on," said Woody.  "We've been talking for at least half an
hour, and he didn't ogle you until just a few seconds ago.  That's not the
first thing he did."

   "He probably ogled me sooner," said Tiffany, in a miffed voice.  "I just
didn't see him do it ...  that's all."

   "See there?" Woody went on.  "We're tried and convicted without any
evidence at all.  You may think that men only have one thing on their
minds, but women assume the worst, even when there may be nothing going on
at all!"

   "We do not," said Crystal, rising to defend her peer.

   "Oh?" asked Woody.  "Is that why you wouldn't talk to me on the plane?"
He smacked his head with an open palm.  "Oh yes, I forgot, you were just
too busy, reading your book.  You didn't think I was trying to hit on you."
His voice dripped with sarcasm.

   Crystal blushed, but, like many guilty people, she tried to excuse her
behavior anyway.  "Well?  What was I supposed to think?" she asked.  "You
started talking to me before you even sat down!"

   Woody smacked his forehead again.  "You're right!  I actually said 'Hi'.
What was I THINKING!?"

   Roberta giggled.

   Tiffany, who had been having a good time just chatting with these
people, held up a hand.

   "Calm down, people.  We were having a good time.  When did everything
get all tense?"

   "They got tense when I complimented you, and you took offense," said
Chuck calmly.

   "That was a COMPLIMENT?" Tiffany bristled.

   "See?" said Chuck, like he had exposed some great truth.

   "Why do men do that?" asked Roberta, her voice curiously intent.

   "Do what?" asked Chuck.

   "Say something about a woman's body, and then call it a compliment." she
replied.

   Jeff spoke up.  "How else do you pay a compliment, unless you say
something about how a woman looks?"

   Roberta had an answer for him.  "You say 'My, you look nice today', or
something like that."

   "What does that actually mean?" asked Jeff.  "It means that something
about the woman's appearance looks good, right?  You're still commenting on
her body."

   "You stared at her breasts!" insisted Roberta.

   "She has great breasts!" said Jeff.

   "Yes, but you're not supposed to SAY that!" groaned Roberta.

   "I'll never understand women," said Jeff, throwing his hands up.

   Chuck raised his hand, like he was in school.

   "Since I started all the trouble, maybe I can undo it." He looked at
Tiffany.  "You're a beautiful woman.  I think you already know that.  My
confirmation of that should have come as no surprise.  Actually, I was just
teasing, but you took me seriously.  I didn't mean to hurt your feelings,
and I have no designs on you.  I'm completely harmless, and poorly
trained." He looked at her to see if she accepted his "apology".

   "Now you're going overboard the other way," said Tiffany calmly.

   Chuck looked at Jeff.  "I'm with you on the understanding women thing,
brother." He leaned back in his chair.

   "Maybe we should change the subject," suggested Woody.  "Anybody want to
go swimming?"

   "So," said Crystal, dragging it out.  "Now that you've talked about our
bodies, you want to see more of them?"

   "Absolutely," said Woody, smiling.  "Guilty as charged.  We're all pigs,
and the only thing we have on our minds is sex.  That's even why us men got
into the sexual education field.  It's all we can think about."

   Roberta giggled again.  "At least HE's honest." She looked at the other
two men pointedly.

   "I'd love to take a dip," said Chuck, "I missed my workout today.  But
if I invite you to come in too, you'll still just think I want to see your
bodies."

   "Don't you?" asked Roberta.

   "Of course I do," he said calmly.  "I'm a man.  I'm normal."

   "Now, was that so hard?" asked Roberta.

   "I just pled guilty," said Chuck.  "You happy now?"

   "We just appreciate honesty," said Roberta.  "That's all."

   "No you don't," said Woody, grinning.  "He was being honest when he said
Tiffany had great breasts, and you didn't appreciate that at all."

   It could have been the kind of tense confrontation that makes continued
discourse awkward, but it was actually Tiffany who broke the tension.

   "Actually, I'm used to it.  When I was a cheerleader I bet I lost my
virginity a million times and never was touched by all the men who did it.
You wouldn't believe how men look at cheerleaders."

   "You were a cheerleader?" moaned Chuck.  "I'm in love!"

   "See?" laughed Tiffany.  "It happens every time."

   "It doesn't hurt that you're gorgeous," sighed Crystal.

   "There's nothing wrong with you," said Woody.

   Crystal grimaced.  "All men ask me is how the air is up there."

   "OK, so you're tall.  That doesn't bother me," said Woody.

   "Are you hitting on me now?" she asked, her voice going up half an
octave.

   "I had to wait until you didn't have that damn book in your hands." He
grinned.

   What Crystal concentrated on, in all this, wasn't what he said.  It was
how he said it, and where his eyes were.  They were on her face.  And his
voice sounded sincere.  He actually didn't seem to mind that she was a foot
taller than he was.  Not that she thought he was actually hitting on her.
She still didn't think he was interested in her that way.  And that made
his comment a real compliment.

   She liked talking to him.  He was attentive and, other than what had
taken place in the last few moments, polite.  Even that wasn't so horrible.
They WERE men, after all, and it should have come as no surprise that they
acted like it, from time to time, even if they WERE teachers.

   "I don't know about swimming," she said.  "But I might be willing to try
out the hot tub, or join them in the sauna."

   Woody stood up immediately.  He looked around at the others.  "Tiffany
was right.  We were all having a good time.  I say we adjourn to the hot
tub and try it again."

   "I'm married!" said Roberta, nervously.

   "So am I," said Jeff.  "So what?  Just because we appreciate you as
females doesn't mean we're going to try to jump your bones."

   Tiffany looked at Chuck.  "Will you behave yourself?" she asked.

   Chuck dropped his eyes to her breasts, and then bounced the immediately
back up to her face.  He grinned.  "I won't want to, but I probably will."

   Tiffany saw, in his eyes, a very frank and open appreciation of her. 
She knew what he was thinking, but he wasn't being outrageous about it. 
She looked him up and down slowly.  He wasn't bad looking, after all.  And
they were only here for a week.  It might be fun to play ...  just a little
bit ...  flirt a little ...  feel good again, as a man appreciated her. 
Not that anything would come from it.  But she hadn't felt desirable ... 
not like this ...  for quite some time.

   "I'll go, if everybody else goes," she said.  It was obvious to them all
that "everybody else" meant the other two women.

   They all looked at Roberta, who was uncomfortable.  She hadn't gotten
much attention from her husband, for quite a while.  None of the men had
commented on HER body, thus far, but she knew that, if she appeared in a
swim suit, they would look at her.  In the past, that would have bothered
her a great deal.  But these were peers, men she had comfortably been
chatting with, only moments before.  Chuck was obviously interested in
Tiffany, and, if she read the signals right, that didn't bother Tiffany all
that much.  Woody seemed to gravitate towards Crystal, which was a little
odd, but not unheard of.  If she did this thing, that might pair her with
Jeff.

   She looked at him, and her eyes went to his left hand, where gold
glinted in the lights from above the bar.  She felt her own ring on her
finger.  He was married too, so that gave them something in common, to
regulate things.  He didn't seem overbearing, and his comments during the
...  discussion ...  they'd just had had seemed genuine, if a little rough.

   "What the hell." she said.  She tossed off the rest of her Coke.  "I
think Jane got her suit from the front desk.  I didn't bring one either."

   "I have one," said Crystal.  "I have to carry mine around, just in case.
I can never find anything to fit me in most places."

   Tiffany stood up and addressed Roberta.  "How about you and me go see
what they have at the front desk?"

   "I brought mine," said Chuck.  "I like to work out, and swim as often as
I get the chance."

   "Me too," said Woody.

   "I'll go with them," said Jeff.  "I never even thought about swimming."

   They broke up then, with three of them heading for their rooms, and
three going toward the front desk, agreeing to meet at the hot tub as soon
as they got changed.

   ===============================

   In her room, Lori stared at the TV screen, while she lay on her bed. 
They hadn't had cable at her college, nor back home.  She knew it existed,
but had never been around it.  HBO fascinated her.  She was watching a show
called "Real Sex", and she couldn't believe her eyes.  The segment she was
watching was about how some people produced pornographic videos in their
own homes!

   She suddenly realized she had been lying in bed so long that she was
about to pee her pants, and jumped up to go into the bathroom.  She leaned
forward, as her bladder emptied, to hear the people being interviewed
saying the most amazing things!

   =============================

   The first thing Jane felt as she skipped into the sauna was the wave of
very welcome heat that washed around her body.  She moaned with the
pleasure of being instantly warm.

   Roger's "Ahhhhh" as he dropped his towel on the boards and sat on it
echoed her own feeling.

   Jane's first impulse was to cover up again, and she sat on the boards,
prepared to use her towel to do that.  Almost instantly she jumped back up
with a yelp, as the boards burned her tender skin.  Roger was looking at
her as she rubbed the back of her thighs.

   "That suit looks good on you," he said.

   She felt herself flush, and begin to sweat almost instantly.  But the
streak of pleasure that shot through her body at his simple compliment made
her decide to sit on her towel, instead of cover up.

   "It feels strange," she said.  "I'm not used to being this naked."

   "You're not naked by any stretch of the imagination," said Roger.  His
eyes skittered from her thrusting nipples, to the deep camel toe between
her pussy lips.  It was easy to visualize her naked.

   The way he said that made more streaks of pleasure shoot through her. 
It was obvious that, if he had his way, she would BE naked, but he wasn't
crude about it.  She was unused to being appreciated for her physical form.
She sat down and leaned back, only to burn her back on the walls of the
room.  She was starting to sweat heavily now.

   "I've never been in sauna before," she said, to explain her behavior.

   "You'll get used to it," he said, looking away finally.

   Half of her was glad his eyes weren't on her any more.  The other half
wished he'd look at her again.  She looked down and saw the deep crease in
the cloth between her legs.  She was mortified, but couldn't adjust the
suit without being obvious about it.  Maybe, later, she could stand up for
some reason and then maybe she could do something about it.

   "Tell me about your boyfriend," said Roger, sluicing sweat off his arms
and chest.

   "Why would you want to know about that?" she asked, impulsively.

   Roger was trying to get her to talk about the man in her life, so he
could convince himself that she wasn't available.  He had a whole
collection of photographs of young women in bikinis, many of them with
nipples and pussy lips that pushed through thin material like those of the
young woman he was in the sauna with.  He was in the process of getting
hard because Jane reminded him of some of those photographs.  The last
thing he needed to do was offend some poor young teacher by acting like a
pervert around her.  If he knew she was taken, it might help him resist the
impulse to think about her the way he was ...  thinking about her.

   "I just thought you might be missing him, or something." he said,
feeling like his comment was lame in the extreme.

   "I'm engaged," she said.

   "That's nice," he said.

   "Not really," she said, surprising herself by saying it out loud.

   "Oh?"

   Jane wondered why she'd said that.  She decided it was because she felt
comfortable around this man, who reminded her of her father.  He was easy
to talk to, somehow.

   "It's just that my family wants me to marry him, and move back to the
farm," she went on.  "I don't think I want to do that."

   "Is that because of the man ...  or the farm?" he asked.

   Jane thought for a second, and then decided to answer.  "Both,
actually," she said, copying his movements and pushing the sweat off her
arms.  "I like teaching, but my family doesn't respect that.  Jed is OK, I
guess, but ..." She suddenly felt foolish, talking to this older man about
her troubles.

   Roger wanted to groan.  Here was a young woman, who fit his fantasy to a
"T", and she was unhappy with her intended.  He just assumed that all the
girls and women he saw were sexually active.  It was part of his fantasy.
But he'd hoped she would be in a very monogamous relationship that would
make her unavailable.  This wasn't working out like he had wanted it to. 
He felt his unruly prick grow some more, and was glad his swim suit was so
loose.

   "Surely you love him, if you're engaged," he said, encouraging her to
destroy his fantasy.

   "I don't know what love is," she said morosely.  "We were engaged before
I went to college.  When I got to college, I had this study partner, and he
was engaged too.  But I had some feelings for him.  I didn't think that
should happen if I really loved Jed."

   "It's not unusual for people to have feelings ..." suggested Roger,
having feelings himself.

   "There are some people you shouldn't have feelings about," said Jane, a
far away look in her eyes, as if she were talking to herself.  Her eyes
cleared and she moved around, like she was uncomfortable.  "Did you ever
have feelings for someone other than your wife?" she asked.  She
immediately felt like she was prying.  "You don't have to answer that.  I
shouldn't have asked."

   Thinking about his wife was actually some relief for Roger.

   "It's OK," he said, looking away from the girl who looked so good in
that yellow bikini.  "Sure.  I noticed other women.  I never did anything
about it, but I noticed them."

   "That's different than having feelings ...  isn't it?" she asked.

   "Well ...  yes, if you put it that way," he admitted.  "I never actually
wanted to DO anything with any of them ...  not while Elizabeth was alive."

   "And since then?" she went on.

   How did one explain that women his age didn't push the sexual buttons
that younger women pushed?  How did one explain that it was hard work to
begin and nurture a close relationship with a woman who was fully
developed, and had a well worn-in set of habits, wants and expectations?

   "It's ...  difficult," he said uncomfortably.  "I'm not much interested
in women my own age."

   "Oh!" said Jane, surprised.  She wanted to ask him what age women he WAS
interested in, but felt like that would be prying even more.

   "I miss being married," he said, obviously uncomfortable, and talking
because that's what people do when they're uncomfortable.  "But it's hard
for people our age to do the dating thing.  I guess you could say we're set
in our ways, or something.  It's hard to explain."

   "You want to get married again?" she asked.

   "It's not that I want to get married, or don't want to get married," he
said.  "It's more that the things I'm interested in aren't the same things
that women my age are interested in."

   "Oh," said Jane, not sure what he meant.  "What kind of things?" she
asked, wishing immediately that she hadn't.

   Roger thought of a way out.

   "Elizabeth and I never had kids.  She died about the time we were
planning all that.  Women my age have already had their families, generally
speaking, and aren't interested in having babies at their age."

   "So you want to have kids?" asked Jane.  That sounded stupid to her and
she winced.  Wasn't that what he'd just said?

   Roger sighed.  "I always wanted kids, but I guess it's too late now."

   "Why?" asked Jane.  She thought he was very attractive, and assumed
other women of childbearing age would too.

   "Younger women aren't interested in a man my age."

   "That's not true," she blurted.  She was so embarrassed that she pulled
her towel out from under her and covered her face with it.  She didn't even
mind the heat of the boards on her thighs.  Besides, her pussy was now
covered too.

   Roger looked at the woman sitting three feet away from him.  Her
behavior suggested that SHE found him attractive, and was embarrassed about
it.  His prick thickened even more.  He'd never actually tried to pursue a
relationship with the kind of woman who he had thousands of pictures of. 
He just assumed that wasn't going to work.  Now, her behavior suggested
that, perhaps, he was selling himself short.  He was so used to fantasizing
about young women, though, that he had no idea how to actually engage one
in ...  the game.  He had no idea what to say to her ...  no idea how to
get that towel off her face.

   He was saved from having to say anything as the door to the sauna
opened, and another guest came in.  It was somebody they'd never seen
before, and didn't know ...  a man who was a few years older than Roger ...
a businessman, perhaps.

   "Feels good in here," said the stranger.

   Jane dragged the towel off her face, as if she had only been wiping it
dry.  Her face was flushed.

   The stranger looked at her.  "You might have been in here too long,
Miss," he said.  "Shouldn't spend more than about twenty minutes in this
kind of heat, unless you're used to it."

   "Thanks," she managed, standing up.  She looked at Roger, but couldn't
see anything in his face.  "See you later," she said.  She pushed the door
open and left, leaving Roger sitting there.  He felt relieved, and his
prick began to deflate.

   "Pretty little thing," commented the stranger.  "Should have gotten here
sooner." He grinned a salacious grin ...  the kind of grin men exchange
that takes the place of a wink and a nod.

   "She's not your daughter, I hope," added the man, the grin disappearing
off his face.

   "No, just a co-worker," said Roger.

   "I need to be in your line of work," said the man, back on track as a
male of the species.

   "You probably wouldn't like it nearly as much as you think," said Roger,
getting up.  "They don't all look like her."

   The stranger waved a hand.  "Take what you can get," he said.  "That's
my motto."

   Roger just got up and left.

   He walked out to find that the others had gathered and were in the big
hot tub.  Jane was standing beside it, enjoying the cool air, after the
heat of the sauna.  They were trying to get her to get in the tub with
them. She had the towel wrapped around her again, holding it together
again, over her breasts.  Roger was very tempted to join them, but he knew
that was just his lust moving in him.  She seemed like a sweet girl ... 
young woman, he reminded himself.  And she was engaged, even if she wasn't
excited about it.  He saw her drop the towel and start to climb into the
tub.  Her slim, young looking body called to him, like a siren song.

   He headed for his room instead.  He needed to do something about the
feelings in him.  He didn't have any pictures, but he did have the mental
image of those spiked nipples, thrusting through thin yellow cloth, those
thick, lush pussy lips, and all that long, black hair.

   And her smile, of course.

   That would be plenty.

   ===============================================================

   When Jeff, Roberta and Tiffany arrived at the front desk, Christopher
had gone off shift, and had been replaced by Arianna, who was working her
way through college.  She was professionally courteous, just like
Christopher, and was happy to take them all to the same room Christopher
had taken Jane.  She wasn't as experienced at guessing sizes, though, and
simply opened drawers so they could go through them.

   "You can try them in over there," she said, pointing to another doorway,
that led to the staff bathroom.  "But don't tell anybody I said that. 
We're not supposed to let people try on new suits." She gave a rueful
smile. "I've never been able to just look at a bikini and tell it would
fit, though.  Just bring everything out and show it to me when you're
done," she said.  "We don't mark these things up, but I have to charge it
to your room."

   She left, to go back to the desk.

   Tiffany went through stacks of suits and found they were sorted by size.
She and Roberta were vastly different sizes, and they looked in different
drawers.  Jeff looked in a drawer with men's suits, and pulled one out.  It
didn't look like it would be skin tight on him.  He was in good shape. 
About all he had to do, with his wife living with her parents, was run and
work out.  It was how he worked off his sexual energy too.  Being around
women like these, he had built up a little sexual energy, though, and he
didn't think a tight suit would be a good idea at all.

   He watched Roberta as she lifted one suit, only to wrinkle her nose and
put it back, to pick up another.  She seemed very down-to-earth.  He
wondered what her husband was like, and what it might be like to be married
to a normal woman, like her.

   "They're all so small!" moaned Roberta.

   "You don't have that much to cover," said Tiffany carelessly.

   "Thanks a lot!" said Roberta.

   Tiffany looked at her.  "That's not what I meant," she said.  "When you
have melons like these," she cupped her breasts, "it's almost impossible to
find something that's decent.  It takes parts of two different sized suits
to fit me." She suddenly realized that Jeff was there, and blushed.  Then,
for lack of anything else to do, she went back to looking at suits.

   "Oh," said Roberta, no longer offended.  "Well, I may not have much, but
what I do have I want to cover up." She looked at Jeff.  He was closely
examining the suit in his hands.  She saw him dart a look at her, and put
the suit back that she'd picked up.

   Jeff looked around.  He had his suit, and could, technically leave.  But
he'd also brought these women here.  Not that he owed them anything, but it
just seemed like he was their escort.  He saw another drawer, that the desk
clerk hadn't opened, and pulled on it.  It was also full of swim suits.  He
picked on up, and realized it was a one piece.

   "Hey," he announced.  "There are more over here.  They're one piece
types."

   Both women went to that drawer immediately, and he stepped away.

   "This is more like it," said Roberta, looking at tags.

   "Oooo!  Ooooo!" said Tiffany.  "There's one my size!"

   She pulled out a suit.  It was white.  It had a lot of fabric where the
breasts would be.

   "Oh my GOSH!" said Tiffany.  "Look at the bottom!"

   "It's a thong!" said Roberta, her voice hushed.  "That wouldn't cover
one bit of your butt!"

   "So much for that one," sighed Tiffany, putting it back.

   It went on for ten more minutes, before Jeff spoke again.

   "Look, you're going to wear this what ...  three or four times, maybe?
And then you can throw it away, and nobody besides us will ever see it. 
Just pick something and let's go."

   Both women turned a hostile eye on him.

   "All I'm saying is that, if we're going to spend all night here, instead
of out there, where you actually need a suit ...  you might as well just
throw in the towel and forget it." Jeff thought that sounded reasonable.

   "Men!" said Tiffany in a huff.  She picked up a suit and went to the
bathroom.

   "Wait for me!" called Roberta.  She had a one-piece in her hands.

   Jeff waited outside.  He couldn't help but think there were two naked
women behind that door.  He felt himself start to get hard, and adjusted
his prick.  It seemed like they were in there a long time, and he thought
of other things to keep his mind off of the image of them shimmying into
swim suits.

   The door opened.  Tiffany stuck her head out.

   "We're going to show you these suits," she said.

   "OK," he said.

   "No, what I mean is we need your honest opinion about whether they're
too small.  They're awfully small."

   "And you want ME to decide?" he asked, amazed.

   "We want you to look at us like a teacher," she said.  "As a teacher,
you should know whether they're OK or not."

   Jeff frowned.  That was the stupidest thing he'd heard in a long time.
He didn't have time to think about it, though, because they came out.

   Tiffany had chosen a suit that had vivid rainbow stripes on it.  He
gulped, because it really WAS small.  Or she was too big.  One of the two.
It covered her, but to be honest, it didn't leave a lot to the imagination.
She looked fabulous in it.  It was hard to tear his gaze off of her and
look at Roberta, but when he did, he was captured just as quickly.

   Roberta's suit was black, and it covered her front completely, though it
was stretched so tightly that, if she were lying down, the fabric wouldn't
have touched her skin there.  You could have bounced a quarter off her
belly and it would have gone two feet in the air.  She was perfectly
proportioned for that suit.  He saw immediately that her nipples were hard,
because they showed through plainly.  He remembered Melanie's swim suits,
all of which had padding in the bra cups.  This one obviously didn't.

   "Turn around," he said, his voice dry.

   They did.  Tiffany's suit covered half of her buttocks.  Roberta's left
her entire back uncovered.  There was a triangle that covered her buttocks,
but he could tell that if she moved, it would suck up between them, into
her ass crack.  He would have loved to see that.

   "They're gorgeous," he sighed.  "But I have to say they're probably not
what you were looking for."

   "I feel positively naked," said Roberta.  "You can see my ni..." She
didn't finish.

   "I don't have that problem," said Tiffany, whose nipples were large, but
almost always flat against her breasts.  They only went erect when she was
having sex, and she hadn't had sex for so long, she didn't think about them
any more.  "A lot of my butt shows, though.  do I look fat?"

   Jeff ignored the danger.  "That is not your problem, Tiffany."

   She turned to look at him.  "Oh?  What IS my problem, Jeff?"

   "Your problem is that Chuck ...  and me ...  and every red-blooded man
within a mile is going to stare at what you don't want stared at." Jeff
felt a little tongue tied.  "I don't want you mad at me, but I have to tell
you, both of you look just plain fabulous."

   "Oh," she dimpled.  "I'm used to that.  See there?  You can make a nice
compliment when you want to."

   Jeff's jaw dropped.  He didn't understand at all.  He'd just said they
were hot as a pistol, but this time, she was pleased.

   "Maybe I should wear this for my husband," said Roberta, straining to
look over her shoulder at her butt.  "Maybe he'd pay some attention to me
again." She looked shocked, and turned away, embarrassed that she'd said
something so personal.

   "So, you think they're good?" asked Tiffany.

   "They are DEFINATELY not what you were looking for," said Jeff again,
trying to make himself plain.

   "OK, then," said Tiffany, complexly ignoring his warning.  "Now, you get
changed, and we can go meet the others."

   "You go ahead," said Jeff, a little breathlessly.  He had in mind to
beat off furiously, once he was in the bathroom.  He'd gotten pretty good
at that, since Melanie had gone back home.

   "No, you waited for us, and we'll wait for you," said Tiffany,
maddeningly.  "It can't take you more than two minutes to put that on," she
said.

   Jeff went into the bathroom.  When he was naked, his prick was fully
hard.  He didn't think he'd have enough time to jerk off.  Not with them
waiting for him outside.  He put on the suit, but it only made his erection
obvious.  It was a lot tighter than he'd thought it would be.

   He put his shirt back on.  The front hung below the waistband of the
suit, and covered his ...  condition.

   =============================

   "Well, we certainly pass the boner test," whispered Tiffany, when Jeff
had closed the bathroom door.  Did you SEE the lump he had in his pants?

   "I'm married!" moaned Roberta.  "He is too!" she squeaked.

   "That doesn't mean you're both blind," said Tiffany.  She hadn't felt
this sexy in years, and was suddenly enjoying it.  "You want to have some
fun with him?"

   Roberta looked shocked.  "How many times do I have to tell you?  I'm
MARRIED!"

   "I don't mean THAT," laughed Tiffany.  "I just meant that we should each
take an arm, and walk him out.  His pants will just burst!  We can get back
at the men for ogling us.  You know ...  turn the tables a bit."

   "If you don't want them to ogle you, you shouldn't ogle them," said
Roberta stiffly.

   "Who said I don't want them to ogle me?  Just because you're married
doesn't mean you don't want to feel attractive.  And you DO feel attractive
in that suit ...  don't you?"

   "Well ...  I ...  ah ...  um ..." Roberta didn't quite know HOW she
felt.

   "Well, there you go.  You're an attractive, married woman, who can still
be appreciated for her feminine attributes.  You don't have to be a slut
about it, but there's nothing wrong with letting yourself feel good."

   "I don't know about this ..." said Roberta, nervously.

   "What can it hurt?" said Tiffany.  "We're just here for a week, and then
we'll all be back to the same old school, and the same old people.  I'm not
saying you have to be unfaithful to your husband or anything.  Just relax
and have some fun feeling pretty."

   "I don't want to give anybody the wrong impression," insisted Roberta.

   "Oh pooh!" said Tiffany.  "As much as I complained, I'm pretty impressed
with the men on this trip so far.  They notice us, but then all men notice
us.  At least they're not pushy about it.  It's fun to tease, just a
little."

   The door opened, and Jeff came out.

   "You're wearing your shirt." said Tiffany.  "Not fair!"

   "Fair or not," growled Jeff, "I'm wearing it.  Now, let's get out of
here."

   He would have been OK, except that he forgot about Arianna, who needed
to identify the sku numbers on the suits, so she could charge them to their
rooms.  When he had to lift his shirt, his erection became obvious. 
Arianna ignored it, professional as always.  Tiffany just grinned.  Roberta
looked away.  She wouldn't have taken his arm, except that Tiffany
announced that, since he had escorted them there, they were going to escort
him back.  She slipped one arm through his, and waited, until Roberta took
his other one.  Then, under the auspices of adjusting the clothing she was
carrying, Tiffany made sure that her elbow dragged his shirt up, and
propelled them all toward the hot tub.

   =================================

   Chuck and Woody, both fitness buffs, and both in good shape, both wore
Speedos, and had the body to make them look good.  Crystal, who had
participated in sports all her life, was used to seeing buff, pretty young
men, and took it all in stride.  They approached the hot tub about the same
time, having taken the same amount of time to get changed.

   Crystal was wearing a two piece suit.  She'd have worn a one piece,
except that nobody made them in her size.  She had, by comparison to other
women, an acre of skin to cover, between her neck and thighs, and no suit
she'd seen would cover more than half that.  So she had to wear a bikini,
even though, at thirty, she felt foolish doing it.  She had, what to her
mind, were smallish breasts, and she knew she was skinny in a way that made
her look even taller than she was.  There was nothing she could do about
that either, though, except fail to participate in things like this.  She
had so few interesting things in her life that she wasn't about to do that.
She was quite sure that the men would pay more attention to the other
women, than to her, so it didn't really matter anyway.

   In reality, Crystal's breasts only looked small because the rest of her
was so big.  She had to have her bras specially made, because her ribcage
was so thick that nothing normal women wore would go around her completely.
Most of her clothing had to be made for her too, so she was used to that,
but, as a result, she didn't actually know what "size" she was.  Had her
breasts been on a normal woman, they would have required a double C cup, so
they weren't small at all, regardless of what she thought.  The company
that had made her clothing had offered to make her a swim suit, but it was
more expense than she could afford at the time.  They supplied her with an
"extender" instead, to go across her back, so that she could use a normal
swim suit.  That suit was dark brown, and went with her auburn hair
perfectly, though she hadn't thought about it when she bought the suit.  It
had been one that fit her, with the extender clipped on, so she bought it.
The suit, stretched to fit her bigger body, still fit her like a second
skin.

   Woody, approaching from one side, didn't whistle, but he felt like doing
that.  He had noticed that, when she was standing still, Crystal slumped.
That made her look tired, somehow, or dejected, or something.  Now, though,
while she was walking, she was fully erect.

   So was he, though in a completely different way.

   Her long-legged gait made her breasts bounce enticingly, and her hips
rose and fell like those of a hunting Cheetah.  She looked feline, somehow,
like she could run like the wind.  Without thinking, he tried to adjust his
erection, only to find that, in a Speedo, there was nothing he could do. 
He put the towel in his hands over his loins, and hurried on to the hot
tub, to get in and get his prick out of sight.  He was so intent on that,
that he got in much too quickly, and felt like he was on fire.

   Crystal and Chuck arrived at the hot tub just in time to see Woody leap
to his feet with an agonized moan.  His legs were still burning, but at
least his upper body was back in the cool air.  Crystal and Chuck both
stopped, staring at him.

   "Got in too quickly," he gasped.  He suddenly felt cool where he was
supposed to be warm, and looked down to see that the water in the tub only
came to his upper thighs.  His bulge looked like it was floating on top of
the water.  He looked up to see Crystal staring at the same thing, and bent
his knees to get his prick back under water.

   "Sorry," he said, forced to say something.

   Crystal ignored him and lifted one leg impossibly high, to put it in the
water.  She eased that leg down, until she was straddling the rim of the
tub, standing on both feet.  Chuck climbed up the steps, stepped over the
rim, and began walking down the steps on the inside of the tub.

   "That's amazing," he said to Crystal, looking at her straddling the rim
of the tub.

   "One of the few benefits of being tall," said Crystal.

   She put one hand behind her, and gripped the rim of the tub with it, and
then stood on her inside foot.  Her outside foot lifted, also impossibly
high and she swung it inside the tub.  In the process, Woody was presented
with a view, from about two feet, of the cloth that had molded itself to
the form of her skin between her legs.  She was very definitely female,
because she had a very definite pussy under that cloth.

   Woody groaned and sat back down, oblivious, now, of the scalding heat.

   Crystal sat down on the opposite side of the tub from Woody.  Only the
lower part of her breasts got wet, and they looked like they were floating
on top of the water.  She looked annoyed, and slid downwards.

   "Can I put my feet by you?" she asked Woody.  "To get under the water,
my butt is going to slid off the seat, but my legs will hold me if I can
put them by you."

   "Sure," said Woody weakly.  He sensed her feet coming up, and one
brushed against his thigh.  When she had settled, he realized her feet were
pressed against the side of the tub.  Now, the back of her head was just
above the water.  She stretched all the way across the tub, which would
hold six people ...  eight if they were friendly ...  and ten if they were
closer than friends should be.  Woody had the insane urge to put his hand
on her leg, where it went right by him, but resisted the urge.  He felt his
prick flex as the movement of the water made her leg move against his thigh
gently.

   Chuck leaned back, between them.  "Are you worried about the physical
effects of being so tall?" he asked.  "You know, the joint problems and all
that stuff that tall people suffer from?"

   Crystal looked at him with a raised eyebrow.  "Most people don't know
how hard it is on a body to be tall."

   "My grandfather was six-seven," he said.  "Obviously, I didn't inherit
his height.  He died when he was only fifty-something."

   Crystal was delighted to be able to talk about something that most
people weren't even aware of.

   "My heart is good," she said.  "And, since I didn't go on to
professional sports, I haven't abused my body much since I left High
School. My last checkup looked pretty good.  I didn't have the
psychological problems a lot of teens have, and we decided not to pursue
Oestrogen treatment.  I'm glad about that.  They haven't done enough
clinical studies on that, in my opinion.  I managed to duck
Osgood-Schlatter disease - that affects the joints - because while I grew
tall, I didn't do it too quickly.  I've worked on staying really flexible,
to make sure my back health stays good.  All in all, I think I'll do OK."

   "Wow," said Woody.  "I had no idea being tall could be so dangerous.  I
didn't understand most of what you just said, but it sure sounded serious."

   "My parents are both tall," said Crystal.  "It was good, because they
had learned a lot that helped me."

   They were talking about the advantages and disadvantages of being tall
or short, when Chuck said "Well, will you look at that!"

   They all turned to see Tiffany and Roberta, who looked like they were
supporting a possibly drunken Jeff between them, as they came toward the
hot tub.

   "Now THAT is a swim suit!" said Chuck.  A wet hand came up and covered
his eyes.  "I just did it again ...  didn't I?"

   Crystal was staring at the women.  "I have a feeling you're allowed to
look, this time," she said.  "Roberta's looks pretty decent, but if
Tiffany's wearing that on purpose, she's advertising."

   "Don't tell me that," moaned Chuck.  "It's hard enough to be polite as
it is."

   "Men aren't the only ones who can be crude," said Crystal, her voice
dark.  "I wouldn't wear something like that."

   "You look plenty good in what you ARE wearing," said Woody.  His eyes
got big as he realized he'd spoken out loud.

   Crystal just looked at him.  She moved her legs, as if she were shifting
positions, and ended up with her leg pressed even tighter against him. 
Woody had no idea what that meant, and her continued stare made him almost
nervous.

   "Why are they walking with him like that?" asked Chuck.  "It's almost
like he can't make it on his own ...  Oh, man, Woody, look at that!"

   "What?" asked Woody, tearing his eyes away from Crystal.  She looked
over at the approaching trio with him.

   "Look at the front of his suit," whispered Chuck.  "Oh, man, I hope they
don't see that.  How embarrassing!"

   It was even worse as the three teachers got close to the tub.  Tiffany's
elbow had pulled the shirt up, and the slanted hem practically advertised
the long, firm lump going upward and sideways in his swim suit.

   "Well, well, well," said Crystal, staring, along with the two men.  "It
seems her suit had the same effect on him that it did on you two."

   "Don't include me in this mess," objected Woody.

   To his amazement, Crystal lifted one foot away from the wall of the tub
and, bending her knee, she put her foot in his lap, where it encountered
his stiff prick.  Her toes moved against it, and she put her foot back
where it had been.  It was over in a few seconds.

   "Really?" she said.  Her face twisted, as muscles moved this way and
that.

   The movement of those muscles was for multiple reasons.  First, Crystal
couldn't believe she'd done what she just did.  She didn't DO things like
that.  And to find that he really DID have an erection only made things
worse.  She had acted like a slut, and found out that the man had an
erection for another woman!  She tried to tell herself she hadn't been
flirting with Woody when she touched his thigh with her legs, but she knew
better.  She'd done that on purpose.  She moved her legs, pulling them back
toward her, and sitting up, both to get them away from him, and to make
room for the three who were now standing beside the tub.

   "Do you like our outfits?" asked Tiffany gaily.  "Jeff approved them."

   "You can say that again," said Crystal under her breath.

   "What?" asked Tiffany.

   "Nothing," said Crystal.  She looked at the two men in the tub with her.
Both of them were staring at Tiffany's breasts.  She felt suddenly grumpy,
and thought about getting out.  Then she sighed.  It was always like this.
Men weren't interested in her.  They always went for the bombshells like
Tiffany.

   Jeff clambered over the side of the tub, not waiting for the two women
with him.  He groaned as he got in too quickly, but didn't get out of the
water.  He was intent only on hiding his boner, not knowing everyone had
already seen it.  Then he realized he was still wearing his shirt, which
was now wet and clung to him uncomfortably.  He unbuttoned it and took it
off, wringing it out, before laying it on the edge of the tub.  He was
blushing, and didn't look at anyone.

   Crystal expected the men to vie for the "honor" of sitting next to
Tiffany, and was surprised when Woody scooted around the continuous seat to
end up next to her.  She looked over at him, and was surprised again to see
him looking up at her, instead of at Tiffany, who was bending over the tub,
feeling the water temperature with her hand.

   Woody didn't have to pay any attention to Tiffany.  Chuck was paying
enough attention for all of them, staring at Tiffany's hanging breasts,
which pulled the top of her suit away from her body so much that he could
see bits of her stomach, between her cleavage.

   "It's hot," she said, waving her hand through the water.

   "Hot," repeated Chuck, his mind whirling.  Even the heat of the water he
was soaking in couldn't prevent his cock from forming a lump almost exactly
like that he had pointed out in Jeff's trunks.

   "We forgot towels," said Tiffany.

   "I'll get them," said Roberta.

   She turned to go toward her room.  Walking in the tight swim suit had
already caused the back to creep up and between her buttocks.  Now that she
wasn't holding onto Jeff's arm, and had had a hand free, she reached back,
unconsciously, and pulled one side out of her butt crack, smoothing it to
where it belonged.  Then she put her clothes in her other hand, and did the
same thing on the other side.

   It was a natural response.  Women around swimming pools do it all the
time.  The only difference here, was that three men had instinctively
looked at her when she spoke.  When she turned, and her entire naked back
was exposed, their eyes lingered, and, just naturally, saw her almost naked
butt cheeks.  Those eyes watched as her fingers adjusted things.  Roberta
Tinsdale had a nice, tight butt, though she wouldn't have thought of it
that way.  By the time she had adjusted her new suit, the three hardons in
the hot tub had twitched, like dancers doing the same step.

   Tiffany used the steps to get into the tub.  As a result, she went up,
holding her arms out for balance, and stepped daintily into the water.  She
wavered, in a completely natural way, and her breasts swayed back and
forth, as a result.

   Crystal snorted.

   Tiffany looked at her, a frown between her eyebrows.

   "What!" she said.

   Tiffany had, with that in-built radar women have, sensed that Crystal
was unhappy with her.  Usually that was because of feminine competition. 
But there was no competition here, and she felt jittery, like Crystal knew
something she didn't know, and that it might embarrass her if she did know.

   Crystal, getting mixed signals from Woody, and being habitually
insecure, felt anger boil over at this gorgeous woman who, like other
gorgeous women, tilted the playing field.

   "Do you think you could have found a suit that showed any more?" she
snapped.

   Tiffany was immediately back on balance.  It was just the normal
jealousy other women often displayed.  She stepped down onto the bottom of
the tub, wincing because she went too quickly, and then looked down at her
breasts.

   "They're covered," she said.  "We didn't have a lot of choices.  Why
would it matter anyway?"

   "We just gave these boys a lecture about being polite, and now you're
flaunting what we yelled at them for looking at." Crystal's voice sounded
petulant.

   Tiffany stayed standing, her breasts still on display.  The men had all
moved around to the opposite side of the tub, as if they were an audience,
looking at her as a performer.

   "So you're saying I made myself into the sexual object I was complaining
about them making me into." she said.  She looked at Crystal.

   "Well, duh!" said Crystal.

   Tiffany looked at the men.  "Is she right, gentlemen?"

   Suddenly the men were looking everywhere BUT at Tiffany.

   Tiffany just laughed.  "Good.  I'm single.  My boyfriend broke up with
me when I took my teaching job.  I guess, technically, I'm available."

   "Oh man, oh man, oh man," groaned Chuck, pulling his hands up out of the
water to put over his face.

   "Thank you, Chuck," said Tiffany, her voice light.  "Now that was a nice
compliment."

   "Oh MAN!" moaned Chuck.

   Tiffany was looking at the two other men too, to gauge their reactions.
She was having a good time flirting, not that she thought anything would
come of it.  They were only going to be here for a week, and had barely
met. But, as busy as she'd been, she'd still missed the intricate interplay
between a man and a woman that she'd lost when, once they were separated by
distance, her boyfriend forgot all about her.  She liked to flirt, and it
was harmless, at least in this situation.

   She took in Woody's face, staring at her, and then saw that Jeff wasn't
looking at her at all, but was looking past her instead.  She looked over
her shoulder to see Roberta coming back with the towels.  She had one
draped over her shoulders, and hanging down to cover her breasts.  She had
bundles of towels in her hands.

   Tiffany turned back to look at Jeff again.  She recognized the look on
his face, as he looked at Roberta.  She remembered telling Roberta to
lighten up.  Now, seeing his face, she realized that might have been a
mistake.  There could be trouble here.  She decided she's speak to Roberta
later ...  just to warn her ...  just in case.

   Crystal also saw the look on Jeff's face as he watched Roberta.  It
simply re-enforced in her mind that men were men, and there was nothing you
could do about it.  Here was a married man, lusting after a married woman.
Crystal, for the first time, was suddenly glad she was divorced.  Her
husband had chosen gambling over her.  He would have chosen other women
over her too if she'd stayed, just like Woody had chosen Tiffany over her.

   Her mind jerked.  Where had THAT come from?  She and Woody weren't a
couple.  She barely KNEW him.  Why in the world would she think, even for a
second, that there was anything to choose?  Sure, he'd been friendly toward
her, but that didn't mean anything.  He'd even complimented her ... 
several times ...  but sometimes that was just pity, because she was a
freak of nature.  She thought about what she'd done with her foot.  It was
insane.  Yet, here he was, sitting beside her.  He wasn't moving to go sit
by Tiffany.  It was all so confusing.  She felt his bare arm touching hers
...  his thigh pressing lightly against her.  She felt a tingle she hadn't
felt in a long time.  That only made her more confused.  She'd seen the way
he looked at Tiffany.  She looked over at him, and found him looking back
at her.  He smiled.  Sighing softly, she thought about getting out of the
tub again.

   ==================================

   The conversation in the hot tub had been strained at first.  The sexual
tension was almost palpable, though no one would have admitted it.  It
wasn't helped when Roberta, getting in the tub slowly, displayed breasts
with obviously erect nipples on them through her tightly stretched, but
thin suit.  Climbing over the edge of the tub required that she adjust the
back of the suit again, and again, she did it unconsciously, but was
watched.

   They soaked quietly for a while.

   "Feels good," said Woody, obviously trying to make conversation.

   "Uh huh," said a couple of others, not taking the bait.

   "I thought the purpose of getting in the hot tub was to get our
conversation going again," said Woody, playing with the water by closing
his hand quickly, to make it squirt up into the air.  "We were having a
good time before."

   "That's before we all became sexual objects," snorted Crystal.

   "I'm not a sexual object," said Roberta.  "I'm married," she reminded
them needlessly.

   "You think that makes a difference?" asked Crystal.

   "It does to me," replied the young wife, as if she were trying to
convince herself.

   Chuck thought of something and spoke.

   "You know, there's a whole industry built around the sexual attraction
of married women."

   "What?" asked Roberta, unsettled.

   "Yeah, I caught one of my students accessing porn on a laptop he brought
to school.  We have one of those wireless networks at our school, because
all the teachers were issued laptops.  He was on one of those MILF sites."

   "Milf?" asked Crystal.  She saw all the men's faces tighten, and her gut
instinct was that all three of them knew what that meant.  She saw the same
look on Tiffany's face.  Only she and Roberta were apparently clueless.

   "Yeah," said Chuck.  "It stands for Mothers I'd Like to ...  um ..."

   "Fuck." Tiffany finished it for him.

   "You're joking!" gasped Roberta.

   "He's not joking," said Tiffany.

   "How come YOU know what it means?" asked Roberta, facing Tiffany.

   "I got some training from the principal of my school, when they asked me
if I'd come to this seminar and teach sex ed next year.  Part of it was a
list of all the web sites that had been accessed in the school library
before they figured out how to block access to them.  He wanted me to know
what they were looking at.  Three or four of them were sites like that. 
You wouldn't believe what some of the others were.  They have sites for
every perversion under the sun out there."

   "Oh," said Roberta weakly.  She thought about young boys, looking at
pictures of her, and wanting to ...  have sex with her ...  just because
she was ...  "Wait!" she said.  "I'm not a mother."

   "Get real," said Tiffany.  "Didn't you just hear me?  I saw sites that
were just for naked women in bridal lingerie.  There are sites just for
blondes, or just for Asian women.  It doesn't matter WHAT kind of woman you
are, there's a site that exploits that."

   "I wonder if there's a site for only tall women," asked Woody.

   Crystal elbowed him ...  hard ...  and he laughed.

   "Just kidding," he said.

   "Yeah, right," she said, more confused now, than ever.  "Even if there
is, you won't see my picture on it!"

   "More's the pity," he said, moving away from her as she tried to elbow
him again.

   That pushed all the men around, pressing Jeff up against Roberta, who
moved away from him to run into Tiffany.  It was like dominos.  The whole
group ended up moving one space to the left.

   "Why is it we always end up talking about sex?" asked Crystal.

   "We're sexual education teachers?" suggested Chuck.

   Jeff, trying to get his emotions under control, tried to talk seriously.

   "You know, this is really a microcosm of our whole society," he said. 
The others looked at him with blank faces.  "What I mean is that sex is a
big part of everything in our society.  You know?  Advertising ... 
clothing ...  cosmetics ...  all that stuff.  It's what our students are
talking about too.  I mean, this is sort of what we could expect them to do
in this same situation ...  don't you think?"

   "You think they talk this frankly about things?" asked Woody.

   "I don't know about talking," said Tiffany, "but I know if they were
sitting around in a hot tub like this, they'd be THINKING about sex."

   "Are you saying this is NORMAL?" asked Roberta, feeling conflicted.

   "Maybe it is," said Jeff, sounding hopeful.

   Oddly, once the topic of conversation shifted from reacting to each
other, to a more academic kind of discussion, they began treating it
academically.  Maybe that wasn't so odd.  They were, after all, all
teachers.  Still, while there was still a very subtle undercurrent of
sexual tension in the tub, it wasn't as obvious as it had been.  The men's
erections relaxed somewhat.  But not all the way.  Legs and feet touched
each other, and shoulders brushed.  Even though the three men were on one
side of the tub, and the three women were on the other, there were two men
and two women who were seated next to a member of the opposite sex.  Only
Chuck and Tiffany were sandwiched between members of the same sex, but they
were facing each other, and it was only natural that, when nothing else was
going on, they would look across the tub at one another.

   At one point the conversation lagged.

   "Where's ...  what's-her-name?" asked Chuck, suddenly.  "You know
...'I'm twenty-three and I'm a teacher' girl?"

   "Lori," supplied Tiffany.

   They all looked around, as if they could determine where the missing
woman was.

   "I think I saw her heading for her room after dinner," said Jeff.

   Just then they door to the sauna closed with a thump and they all looked
to see Jane.  She looked flushed, and was sweating profusely, but that
wasn't abnormal, considering where she had just come from.

   "We're over here, Jane!" called out Tiffany.

   Jane looked over, surprised.  The last place she had seen them all was
when they were at the bar, staring at her.  She felt naked again, and
pulled the towel up to her chest.  Then she realized that was making her
discomfiture obvious, and wiped her chest, as if that was all she had meant
to do.  Then she realized her chest was bare again, and looked down, to see
her ever stiff nipples poking through the suit.  She wrapped the towel
around her body.

   "Come join us," came Tiffany's added invitation.

   Jane was conflicted.  She had just fled the sauna because, in her own
opinion, she had all but thrown herself at Roger.  She suddenly pictured
him coming out after her, reaching for her, and moved away from the sauna,
toward the hot tub.  She didn't really want to join the group.  She had the
urge to go to her room and masturbate.  She knew she'd think about Roger if
she did that, and that made her nervous.  And, if she didn't think about
him, she'd think about her father, which was worse.  Maybe joining them
would distract her.  She went to the tub, where everyone looked relaxed.

   "OK," she said.  "Just for a little while.  What have you all been
talking about?" she finished, in what she thought was a normal offering of
conversation.

   "You don't want to know," said Crystal.

   "Me?" Jane squeaked, thinking that, for some obtuse reason, they had
been talking about her.

   Tiffany laughed.  "No, relax.  We've gotten sidetracked, for some
reason. The only thing we seem to be able to talk about is sex."

   "Oh," said Jane.  That was all she needed.  All she could think about
was sex too.

   "We'll talk about something else," said Woody.  "We're professional
teachers.  We all teach something besides sex ed.  We can talk about that."

   Jane heard the sauna door slam, but didn't look that way.  She dropped
the towel.  As she climbed up and over the rim of the tub, they shifted,
and she ended up between two of the men.  she noticed their eyes went to
the top of her suit, which was plastered to her skin by sweat.  All this
attention was making her even hornier.  As she sank down into the water,
she concentrated on the heat of it instead.  The water felt hot, but it was
no problem, after the sauna.  She saw Roger walking toward his room.  Her
heart lurched a little.

   Jeff Watts, taking Woody's suggestion to heart, began talking about
teaching art.  He was in the middle of talking about the challenges of
giving kids a chance to create real art, as opposed to something hurried
and cheap, when she saw Roger look back toward the hot tub.  Her heart
lurched again.

   When he turned and resumed walking toward his room, her heart fell.

   ======================================================

   Chapter Three: Opening Day

   There were a number of indicators that should have told Bob that
something odd was going on, but he didn't pick up on them right away.

   The first was that, as he ate breakfast by himself at a small table, he
didn't see, scattered around the dining room, the couples that he usually
saw, when one of his seminars was about to take place.  He did see the
group of nine people, sitting together, but didn't associate them with his
group.  His groups never started out sitting together.  His groups started
out sitting apart, and then, in about the middle if the seminar, sat
together, and by the end sat apart again, though sometimes not in the same
pairings.

   The second was when, as he reviewed his notes one more time, the group
he had seen sitting together all walked tentatively into the conference
room he'd been assigned.  He recognized it as the same group, and that
surprised him so much that he didn't fully process the information.

   The third was that, when they sat, they didn't sit boy-girl-boy-girl
style, which was almost inevitable when paired couples gathered and sat
around a table, like these did.  That was also so odd that it threw him
off. In fact, they didn't sit like paired couples at all.  There was, for
the most part, an equal distance between them.  Women usually sat closer to
their chosen mate, extending the distance between rivals, and asserting
their claim.  They weren't aware of it, but it was quite common.

   He usually launched into his material almost immediately.  His concepts
were strange enough, to most people, that he needed all the time available
to get through them, and deal with the resistance that invariably arose. 
Instead, what he did, was look at them curiously.  He was used to dealing
with human reactions, but these people were acting differently than his
expectations, and that was interesting.  In the process, his mind strayed
away from his presentation.  He also forgot to ask them for their surveys.

   "Good morning," he said.

   He got the normal responses and curious looks.

   "I'm glad you could all make it," he said.  He'd gotten an odd
communication that said his group was snowed in, in Toronto, but would try
to make it anyway.  "I understand you all had some excitement on the way
here."

   The reaction wasn't what he expected.  He got some blank looks.  His
attention was drawn to one unusually tall woman, who, according to his
perceptions, had chosen to sit by a much shorter man.  She wasn't sitting
close to him, though.  It was almost as if they had just met, and she was
attracted to him.  There was a woman sitting on her other side.  He
examined the man the tall one was sitting by.  He had a relaxed
countenance, indicating he was comfortable.  He had looked at the woman and
smiled, when Bob mentioned excitement.

   Almost no one else reacted.  The older man in the group was looking at
Bob intently, but he said nothing.  Bob gave his head an invisible, mental
shake.  If this was an odd group, he'd better get on with it.  He wanted to
get rid of any of them who were going to resist, so he could spend more
time with these very interesting people.

   He used a light pen and laptop, slaved to a plasma screen, instead of a
dry erase board.  It let him display graphics, as well as things he wrote
to emphasize them during his talk.  Most people who had been to college, or
who worked in an organization tended to take notes, whether it was needed
or not.  In Bob's case, what he was going to tell them would be remembered.
No notes were necessary, and, by the second day, people stopped taking
them, usually.

   "OK," he said into the silence.  "We all know why we're here, so let's
get to it."

   He opened with his regular spiel about how sex was the basic drive that,
along with the need for food and shelter, demanded a lot of the attention
that was involved in living a life.  He suggested that any organism that
fails to have successful sex will die, leaving nothing behind to continue
its line, and that, therefore, successful sex was imperative for all living
things.

   He got some odd looks at that, but still no one said anything.

   He went on to say that the only things that regulated sex were
competition, and social mores, and suggested that social mores didn't
regulate sex nearly as well as they were intended to.

   "Why do you think we have social rules about sex?" he asked.

   Nobody said anything.

   He held up a hand.  "Let me back up for just a second.  We're here to
talk about sex, which is something that most people are not comfortable
doing.  That's one of those rules I mentioned a moment ago.  We're told
'Don't talk about sex', among other things." He looked at each person, and
got a couple of nods.  It was interesting that several of them smiled, and
looked around the table, though not at any particular person.  The woman
with braces, who looked too young to actually be in this seminar, nodded
her head vigorously.

   He went on.  "But, to make progress, we need to communicate, and to
communicate, we need to trust each other.  If we don't, we'll just tell
each other lies, or half truths, and that doesn't do any good at all.  So,
I need you to be as open and honest as you can ...  much more open and
honest than you'd usually be.  Nothing we say here will leave this
conference center, unless one of you takes it outside and talks about it."

   He got more odd looks, and began to suspect something was seriously
wrong.  Either that, or this was the most up tight crowd he'd ever seen in
his life.

   He tried again.  "OK, so ...  why do we have rules and laws that
restrict sexual behavior?"

   After a too-long pause, the older man finally broke the ice.  "All laws
are intended to protect, and regulate the members of any society."

   "Very good," said Bob, relieved.  "So why would there be a law that says
no one under the age of, say, sixteen, can engage in sex?"

   Nearly everybody moved, either sitting up, or leaning or doing something
to let tension out of their bodies.

   The good looking blond spoke.

   "That's too early for them to have sex," she said, as if it were
obvious.

   "Too early by whose standards?" asked Bob.  "When a woman begins to
menstruate, she is capable of bearing a child.  Nature says that she's
ready to have sex.  Nature says it's NOT too early.  So why do we make that
rule?" He looked at Tiffany.

   "This is silly," she said.  "Girls that young shouldn't have babies. 
It's hard on their bodies."

   "Now ..." said Bob, "you have a REASON for making a rule.  If women try
to have babies too young, they may not survive.  The babies may not
survive. The rule comes into place because we, as humans, are capable of
gaining wisdom.  This is the whole crux of my program.  When you leave
here, I hope to have taught you to question everything.  If there is a rule
that restricts your behavior, I want you to question it, and understand
whether or not it is a good rule, or a bad one."

   "I don't understand," said the young girl with braces.  "I thought we
were here for Sexual Education Training."

   "You are," said Bob, missing another cue.  "But education begins with
asking questions, and ends with finding the answers to those questions."

   Several of the group looked confused, now, and uncertain.  Bob was used
to seeing that look, but didn't realize it was for different reasons that
he usually saw it.  He went on with his presentation.

   "OK," said Bob, moving to his next point.  "Let's talk about 'sex' all
by itself, for a moment.  Sex has dual roles in any society.  You can do it
for procreation, and you can do it for fun."

   He didn't look for acceptance of that.  While there were still a few
people on the globe who thought sex was only for making babies, and that no
fun was allowed, they never showed up in his seminars.

   "Now, Sex, just for the purpose of sex, is OK, but, for most people, at
one time or another, is not the really desired outcome.  Love makes for
better sex.  Admiration and respect lead to truly satisfying relationships,
and there's a lot more than sex to a good relationship."

   He got a few more nods.

   "The problem is, that in most long term relationships, sex is more
important in the beginning, than it is later on.  Why do you think this
happens?"

   Again, it was Roger who spoke, perhaps because he was the only member of
the group old enough to have been in a really long term relationship.

   "The sex drive is stronger, when you're young," he said.

   "Really?" asked Bob.  "What about Hugh Hefner?"

   The man snorted.  "I thought we were talking about long term
relationships ...  not a harem that changes constantly."

   "OK," said Bob.  "You have a point there.  MY point, though, is that it
is quite possible for people of, shall we say, advanced age to be
thoroughly interested in having a vibrant sex life." He looked around.  "So
the question then becomes ...  what is it about prolonged relationships
that causes the sex drive to diminish?"

   Crystal spoke.  "Sometimes the relationship changes," she said.  She was
thinking about her ex-husband's gambling addiction.  When everyone looked
at her she looked uncomfortable.  "I mean, there's disappointment in your
mate," she added.

   "I agree," said Woody suddenly.  "Things change, and your mate
disappoints you." He was thinking about how he'd been ready to marry Mandy,
but she'd dumped him.

   "Yes," said Roberta, thinking about how her husband loved work more than
he loved her.

   "Me too," threw in Jeff, thinking of Melanie, sitting at home with her
parents, instead of with him, where she belonged.

   Bob blinked.  They sounded like they all had marital problems that his
seminar wasn't equipped for dealing with.

   "OK," Bob said slowly.  "but those are situations where marital
counseling is called for ...  to ease the stress and bring about changes of
behaviors.  What I'm talking about is an otherwise healthy relationship,
where sex has gotten, shall we say, less exciting, even though the partners
are fully committed to the relationship."

   He got blank looks.  The majority of the group had never been in a fully
committed relationship at all.  He looked at the older man, expectancy in
is gaze.

   Roger saw that look, and responded.

   "I can't help you.  When my wife died, the sex was as good as it had
ever been."

   Bob blinked again.  This man was a widower?  What was he doing at this
seminar?

   "But you remarried," suggested Bob.

   "No," said Roger.  "Dating is a real pain in the ass."

   Bob had just been presented with another indicator that something was
terribly wrong.  Already off balance, though, he didn't stop to take the
time to investigate this.  He had noticed that there were four men and five
women in his seminar.  It wasn't unheard of for a man to refuse to go to a
seminar to "get help" with his wife, but the change in numbers, now
suggesting there were TWO women without paired partners didn't fully
penetrate.

   "Uh ..." said Bob, trying to think of how to get back on track.  "Can
we, for the moment, agree, just for the sake of argument, that sometimes
people who are married ...  get used to each other?  A little bored,
maybe?"

   The looks he got now were positively confused.

   The young woman with braces finally spoke.

   "I still don't see what any of this has to do with sex ed."

   It was her use of the shortened term "sex ed" that finally penetrated
into Bob's consciousness.  It was just the wrong term to use in this
situation.  It stopped him cold in his tracks, and he took a mental step
back.

   "How many of you are married?" he asked suddenly.

   Two hands went up, one belonging to a woman, and one to a man.  They
were not sitting together.

   "Are you two married to each other?" he asked.

   He got astonished looks from both of them, but noticed the woman blushed
too.  Both yipped "No!"

   Bob felt a sinking feeling in his gut.

   "And you - all of you - are not from Toronto ...  are you?"

   They all looked like he'd asked them if they were from Mars.

   Bob looked around.

   "I think there has been a mistake here," he said finally.  "I think you
all are in the wrong seminar."

   "What seminar is this?" asked the older man.

   Bob said "This is the seminar on human interaction and sexual
relations."

   The tall woman opened the notebook she had brought to the room and
looked through papers in it.  She pulled one out.

   "Human interaction and sexual relations." she read.  "It's right here on
the memo I got."

   "Memo?" asked Bob.

   "Yes," she said, looking up.  "From the school board."

   "School board?" asked Bob.

   "I just said that!" said the woman, heat in her voice.  "They sent me
here for continuing education.  I teach sex ed.  We all do."

   Roger spoke again.  "What is the purpose of this seminar?" he asked.

   Bob looked at him.  "The purpose of this seminar is to re-invigorate
stale sexual relationships in paired couples who are in long term
relationships."

   It was so silent that Bob could hear the whisper of the air
conditioning.

   Woody chuckled, and then laughed.  Everybody looked at him.

   "Well, you have to admit it's ironic," he chuckled.  "I mean, here we
are, trying to learn how to keep kids from having sex, and they send us to
a seminar on how to have better sex!"

   Bob stood up.  "Hang tight for just a second.  I'll be right back."

   He left the room and made a call to his office.  The information he got
stunned him.  Somehow, a state board of education had actually screwed up
monumentally, and sent nine teachers to his seminar.  He had no idea how
that could have happened, but he was quite sure it was an error.  He had no
idea what to do now.

   He went back to the room.

   ================================

   In the conference room, the conversation was animated, as soon as the
door closed.  There were the expected "I can't believe this!" kinds of
statements, but the irony of the situation gripped all of them, with the
possible exception of Lori, who was just confused.  She had no sexual
experience at all, with the possible exception of closely watching what
farm animals did.  She didn't know what to think.

   The irony of the sexual interplay that had affected the group was also
recognized, though it wasn't talked about openly.  When Bob had said he
taught people how not to be bored with their sex lives any more, Jane
automatically thought of her relationship with Jed.  They weren't even
married yet, and she dreaded what she considered to be the boring life she
would lead, once they were.  Roberta thought much the same thing, thinking
of how her sex life with Phillip had tapered off to practically nothing.

   All of them, except Lori, of course, were contemplating one thing or
another while Bob was gone.  It was very interesting to all of them, if
only because it was such a surprise about what had happened.  They were
just beginning to think of how this might affect their jobs, when Bob
returned.

   ==================================

   Bob went to his briefcase and opened it.  He searched through it and
pulled out a slim folder, which he opened.  It was the results of the lab
tests that were required of all attendees in his seminars.  His secretary
routinely screened such results, and put them in a folder for him, but she
only drew his attention to them if something was positive for an STD. 
Obviously, she had screened only the results, without looking at the names.
If she'd have looked at the names, she'd have seen that all nine were
different, and said something.

   Bob stood, addressing the group.

   "Here's the deal.  I have no idea how it happened, but somebody made a
huge mistake and misinterpreted the purpose of my seminar.  You were all
sent here intentionally." He gave them a chance to gasp and look at each
other in bewilderment.  He didn't see as much of that as he expected.  "I
was expecting a group from Toronto, but they got snowed in, and you all
showed up, which is why things got all tangled up."

   "So what do we do now?" asked Roger.

   "Well," said Bob, "I've never run into this situation before.  You WERE
sent here, and the bill has already been paid.  I'm sure it was an error of
some kind, though.  I suppose you could all just go back home."

   "Could we stay?" asked one woman.  She had raised her hand when he asked
who was married.

   "Before we talk about that, let me find out a little bit about you all."
Bob suddenly remembered the surveys.  "You all should have been given a
survey.  I imagine it looked a little weird to you."

   He got lots of nods at that one.

   "Never mind that now," he said.  "Just introduce yourselves and give me
a thumbnail sketch of where you are in your sexual life."

   They stared at him.

   "I'm not asking for intimate details," he amended.  "Just tell me what
kind of relationship you're in." He looked at the woman who had asked if
they could stay.  "Can we start with you?"

   She looked uncomfortable and her face darkened, but she took a breath.

   "I'm Roberta Tinsdale.  I'm married, but my husband is never home
because he's always at work.  We don't ...  um ...  see each other very
much." She stopped, looking uncomfortable at what she'd divulged.

   "That's fine," said Bob.  "Anybody else?"

   Perhaps because her situation was similar, in a far-fetched way, to his,
Jeff spoke next.

   "I'm Jeff Watts," he said.  "I graduated mid year, and took a job to
replace an injured teacher, so I've only taught for four months.  My wife,
Melanie, decided the pay was too low and went back home to live with her
parents.  She's kind of spoiled."

   "Thank you," said Bob.  He looked at the tall woman.  She looked back
and then made an almost physical decision to speak.

   "Crystal Smith.  I've been divorced for five years.  I left him because
he wouldn't stop gambling.  I'm not in a relationship.  Men don't date tall
women." Her voice was tight, and almost confrontational.

   "Thank you," said Bob, ignoring her confrontational gaze.  He looked at
Roger next.

   "When did your wife pass on?" he asked.

   "Ten years ago," he said.  "I'm Roger, by the way.  Roger Zowalski. 
Like I said, I have a hard time with dating, and playing the games that
dating seems to require just ...  I just can't get motivated to do that."

   Bob nodded and looked at Chuck.

   "Chuck Bradshaw," he said.  "I'm not in a relationship."

   That was apparently all he was willing to say, so Bob went on to
Tiffany.

   "My name is Tiffany Jones.  I had a serious boyfriend when I was in
college, but, when I went to teach, he stayed to get a Masters degree.  We
seem to have drifted apart.  I've been too busy to look around, and all the
good ones were taken at my school."

   Woody preempted being looked at by speaking first.

   "I'm Woody Buckholtz.  I wanted to get serious with my girlfriend, but
she didn't.  She dumped me.  It's hard to find a woman who wants a serious
relationship."

   Bob noticed that Crystal looked at him interestedly, when he spoke. 
That confirmed, in his mind, that she HAD chosen to sit by him.  He'd seen
this group together, eating.  That made a lot more sense, now that he knew
why they thought they were there.  It would have been natural for them to
cluster.  There must have been some interaction besides eating if this
woman was already interested in one of the men.  It was a good sign, but
not to be dealt with now.  He turned to one of the remaining two women.

   "I'm Jane Watson," she said.  "I'm engaged."

   She stopped there.  It was about like Chuck's reticence, but required a
bit more.

   "And how long have you been engaged?" asked Bob.

   "Six years," she said.  She didn't sound unhappy.  It was more like she
was embarrassed.

   "That's a long time to be engaged," suggested Bob, knowing there was
something under the surface.

   "I'm ...  not sure I want to marry him," said Jane, looking down.

   Bob let her off the hook, for now, and turned to the girl with braces.

   She blinked at him, looking scared.  He waited.  The others looked at
her.  As peer pressure almost always does, it forced her to say something.

   "I'm Lori Simpson.  I'm twenty-three and I'm a teacher," she blurted.

   Someone snickered, and Bob spoke instantly, but kept his eyes on Lori.

   "No one has said anything funny.  In a group like this, any time you are
asked to speak, it can be a very uncomfortable situation.  Let's not be
unkind to anyone who does speak, OK?"

   He let that soak in and then asked Lori: "Do you have a boyfriend,
Lori?"

   She blinked.  "No."

   He waited for more.

   "I wasn't allowed." Then, almost impulsively, she added: "Sex is bad ...
I think."

   There was all kind of movement around the table, but nobody said
anything, for which Bob was grateful.

   "If you'll indulge me, I'd like to do a little thinking out loud.  Then
you all can make some decisions."

   They nodded, and he began talking, looking at no one in particular.

   "OK, they got sent here, and the bill is paid.  I'm dealing with a
bureaucracy, here, and if I send them all back, trying to pay the money
back will be a nightmare.  They're all sexual education teachers, which
means that they have to deal with the issues of young people and sex, which
is difficult under any circumstances.  To top it off, none of them are in a
committed, long term relationship that's meeting their needs.  That's going
to make for a continuing high level of anxiety, which will make it even
more difficult to deal with kids."

   "Now, if they stay here, I might be able to offer them some information
that could help them in forming and maintaining committed, long term
relationships.  If that happens, it could be a positive influence in their
lives, which could end up making their interaction with their students more
positive as well.  So really, it all boils down to an ethical question. 
Can I provide them with enough information to make them better sexual
education teachers, which will justify the expense they've been sent here
at?"

   "Wouldn't it be a legal question?" asked Roger, "Instead of an ethical
one?"

   Bob looked at Roger.

   "The legal question is pretty easy.  The board signed a contract with me
by enrolling you.  I'm obligated to supply the information they've paid
for. The ethical question comes in when we know it was an error, and that
what I have isn't what they THOUGHT they were paying for.  At this stage of
the game, I can demand payment, because I'm here, and willing to do what I
was hired to do.  They could sue me, but I imagine it would cost them more
than just blowing off the expense of the seminar."

   "How could you make us better sexual education teachers?" asked Tiffany.

   Bob smiled.  "Sex is a complicated and intricate dance, and while the
basic steps are easy to figure out, the music that goes with this
particular dance is not easy to compose.  Imagine dancing, with no music at
all ...  no beat to help you time your steps ...  no stimulation to your
brain as you enjoy both the music AND the dance.  What I can teach you is
how to write the music."

   "You mean how to have a better sex life," said Crystal, cutting to the
chase.

   "I don't need to learn how to have a better sex life," said Lori.  "I
don't have sex!"

   "Do you plan to never have sex in your whole life?" asked Bob.

   "I'm barely a teacher!" she yipped.  "How can I even THINK about sex? 
My parents told me sex was bad so much that I don't know if I could even
stand to DO it!  I never even kissed a boy!"

   There was more shifting of bodies in chairs.  It was practically unheard
of for a woman twenty-three years old, who wasn't in a convent, to be that
inexperienced.

   "Sex doesn't have to be scary," said Bob gently.  "Even if you decide
never to have sex - and let me say here that's a perfectly honorable
decision - but even if you decide never to form that kind of relationship
with a man or woman, you still will be surrounded by it.  You should learn
not to be afraid of it, if only to be able to function in a more relaxed
and comfortable way in your daily life."

   "Wait a minute," Tiffany interrupted.  "Did you say with a man OR
woman?"

   Bob didn't smile.  "As I said before, there is sex for pleasure, and
there is sex for procreation."

   "But that's just wrong!" said Tiffany.

   "It may be wrong for you, and that's fine," said Bob.  "That doesn't
make it wrong for everybody else.  Some people like cottage cheese, and
some people don't.  That doesn't mean cottage cheese is to blame.  It's
just there."

   He let them chew on that for a few seconds.  He sat down.  When they
were all looking at him again, he spoke.

   "So, as I see it, there are two options.  One is for you to all go home.
The other is for you to honor the board's decision to stay here and go
through my seminar." He paused.  "From my perspective, just to cover all
the ethical bases, I'd prefer that you either all went, or all stayed."

   "But your seminar is for married people ...  right?" asked Roger.

   "Normally, yes, I have married couples in my seminars.  That doesn't
mean the information isn't valid for people who are not YET in a committed
relationship." He looked at Roberta.  "Those of you who ARE married may be
able to affect your marriage in a positive way, as a result of the seminar.
That's not a promise, because I usually work with both members of a couple,
but the information could be valuable."

   He looked around.

   "I think I can offer you all information that will, at some point in
time, make your lives ...  and your relationships ...  a lot more
rewarding." He frowned.  "Of course," he said, waving one hand in the air,
"I'll alter the curriculum to these ...  circumstances.  I usually have
exercises in the class, which, obviously, would be a problem with this
group."

   The one named Woody jerked, and opened his mouth.

   "That's what the blood tests were for ...  isn't it."

   Bob nodded.  "I talk about anything and everything, as it pertains to
sexual behavior.  Some of that involves practice ...  home work, in your
terminology." he Grinned.  "Occasionally, people interact with someone
other than their spouse.  There could be liability issues if I weren't sure
that there were no ...  problems."

   The tall woman shuddered.  "Couldn't we just find the right seminar and
switch?" asked Crystal.

   "I have no idea where the seminar they thought they were sending you to
is," said Bob.  "I doubt seriously it's here, at the Halle Center. 
Wouldn't continuing education be at a college or university?"

   "Not necessarily," said Roger, who had been to continuing education
seminars in the past.  Some of them were held in conference centers, just
like this.

   "I'll go find out if there's anything here," said Bob.  "While I'm gone,
you all can discuss what you want to do."

   ===================================

   Again, the conversation was animated.  None of the group, again, with
the exception of Lori, was actually happy with the sexual life they were
... stuck with.  They had all made allowances for their situations, and
lived with things, but they also knew that things could be better.  For
some of them, they just didn't know HOW to make them better.

   Bob's offer was appealing.

   Roger, as the elder of the group, assumed command.

   "I agree with Bob.  If any of us goes, I think we should all go," he
said.  "There could be fallout if some stayed, and some went."

   "What do you think we should do?" asked Jane.

   "I'd like to hear what he has to say," said Roger.  "I don't know if it
will be worth a plug nickel or not, but I'm curious."

   There was more talk ...  a LOT more talk.  Some worried, but almost all
were, like Roger, curious.  They were already here.  It was a nice place.
Bob seemed intelligent, and didn't sugar coat things.

   In the end, they decided to stay.

   ==================================

   Bob knew he wouldn't find anything on another seminar, but he asked. 
Then he went back, to find out if he'd have to deal with the bureaucracy,
or not.

   When he got there, they had finished talking.  Most of them looked
comfortable.  A few looked nervous, chief among them, Lori.

   "We've decided to listen to what you have to say," said Roger.  "We may
argue with you."

   "That's fine," said Bob.  "You won't be the first to argue with me."

   ===================================

   Bob picked up where he left off, but cut to the chase.

   He told them that one of the "rules" in most societies was monogamy.  He
gave a nod to Roger and said "It prevents warfare between the men, by and
large, and makes for a more manageable society, so we might assume it's a
good rule."

   "Sounds like you're going to disagree," said Roger.

   "I am, but only from the point of the argument that, genetically, every
time a man sees a woman, he evaluates her as a potential mate, and every
time a woman sees a man, she does the same thing."

   "Looking for the best genetic match," said Chuck.

   Bob nodded.  "That puts us at odds with that rule on a genetic basis,
because we continually keep looking for more mates."

   "I don't," said Roberta.  "If my husband would pay attention to me, I
wouldn't look at other men at all."

   Bob smiled.  "You don't THINK you're looking at other men, because you
don't think ABOUT it.  But you are.  The thing is, that when we do that, we
make decisions almost instantaneously.  We put them in the 'acceptable to
mate with' category or the 'not interested' category."

   "I still disagree," insisted Roberta.  "I'm sure I've seen, according to
your theory, a lot of men who would be acceptable, but I don't throw myself
at them."

   "Of course not," said Bob, smiling more widely.  "There are rules about
that.  Let me ask you this.  Do any of the men in this room appeal to you?"

   She blushed almost instantly, which was enough for Bob.  "Wait!" he
said. "Don't answer that.  I'll answer it for you.  There probably ARE
attractive men in this room ...  men who, if you weren't married, you'd be
interested in."

   "OK," she said, upset that he was right.  "But what does that have to do
with me and my husband?"

   "The point is," said Bob, getting to this point in his program much
sooner than usual, "that we can use that genetic command to keep looking
for other mates, to make our monogamous relationships more interesting."

   "How?" asked several voices.

   "Fantasy," said Bob.  "Role playing."

   "You mean like the little French maid?" asked Crystal.  Her ex-husband
had bought her a ridiculous outfit and tried to get her to put it on.

   "Exactly," said Bob.

   "But," she blurted, "I didn't want to BE the little French maid!"

   There was movement around the table as people were shocked by her
outburst, and the information it gave them.  They weren't used to getting
that kind of information about a peer.

   "That," said Bob, "is where communication and negotiation come in.  When
you're with someone, and anticipate staying with them, you need to have the
most open and understanding relationship you can possibly have.  When one
wants something that's unacceptable to the other, then you communicate to
find a way to find something else that will work to give you the sense of
variety that nature insists you strive for."

   Roberta looked up from her hands, which she had been staring at ever
since she had confessed there was someone in the room she was interested
in.

   "So ...  you're saying it's ...  normal ...  to think about ...  sex ...
with more than one man."

   "Or woman," Bob said, smiling.

   "Are you married?" asked Tiffany.

   More than one person was unable to stifle a burst of laughter.

   She glared at them.  "That's not what I meant!" she barked.  "I want to
know how his wife feels about this."

   Bob smiled again.  "I'm not married.  When I was an intern, the hours
were so long I couldn't keep a budding relationship ...  watered, if you
will.  Then I was in private practice, which is worse, when you do pro bono
work, like I did.  I guess I'm still looking for the woman who is ... 
acceptable enough ...  to take me away from all this."

   He saw Roberta's face wrinkle up, like she was about to cry.  He
realized he had just re-enforced her feeling that she wasn't acceptable to
her workaholic husband.

   "Roberta," he said softly.

   She looked up, her eyes filled with tears.  She blinked furiously, to
keep them from overflowing.

   "It's almost never too late to turn things around."

   "Phillip thinks psychiatrists are all hucksters and charlatans," she
said miserably.  "He'd never come to something like this, and he wouldn't
listen if he did."

   "Well, then," said Bob, smiling gently.  "Maybe we can send you home
with a few ideas to shake up his interest in work."

   "OK," she squeaked.  Tiffany handed her a tissue, and she wiped her
eyes, and then her nose.

   Roger spoke.  "What if your ...  fantasies ...  aren't socially
acceptable?"

   "Yes!" chimed in Chuck.

   Bob had to approach this carefully.  There was perversion, as defined by
law, and perversion, as defined by culture.  You could, under the right
circumstances, push the envelope with one, while the other needed to be
dealt with in counseling.

   "It depends," he said.  "Perversion, which is what I assume you are
referring to, is defined in two ways.  There are things that the law
defines as perverse, and there are things that, while legal, a culture may
call perversion, and frown on.  Let's take Mister Hefner, since his name
came up already.  How many of you think Hugh Hefner is a pervert?"

   All the women except Lori raised their hands.  None of the men did.

   Bob grinned.  "Sexual mores differ from group to group, and between the
genders.  I'm not trying to convert you, ladies, but from a man's point of
view, all Hugh is doing is pursuing available, nubile young women that
almost any man would be happy to pursue.  You ladies obviously feel
differently about that.  I'd point out, though, that, since he started his
business, there have been tens of thousands of young women who disagreed
with you." He smiled again.  "So, perversion, in some cases, is relative.
That even applies to other things, often labeled as perversion, that are
more inflammatory.  I don't usually talk about those situations until
everyone is comfortable and communicating better than we are right now."

   "Why?" asked Tiffany.  She was driven to ask that question because Chuck
had jumped on the "perversion" bandwagon so quickly.  She was attracted to
him, though she thought he could use a little training, and was worried
that he might like things that she couldn't put up with.

   Bob grinned.  "Trust me when I tell you that, on Saturday morning, when
you leave here, you won't give a thought to some things that might horrify
you right now."

   "How can you know that?" she insisted.

   "I'll give you an example," said Bob.  "Usually I ask how many of the
women in the seminar have shaved their pubic hair off.  I won't ask here,
because these are different circumstances."

   He stopped, knowing that he hadn't answered a question, but had only
made them curious.  He knew somebody would ask him why.  It was Crystal who
did, which surprised him.  Tall women were usually very reserved.

   "There are two reasons to shave the pubis, both for men and women," he
said.  "The first is for hygiene.  Crabs who have no place to live tend to
go elsewhere."

   He stopped to let them be naturally horrified.

   "In fact, that's something you might be able to use in your sex ed
classes, when you talk about sexually transmitted diseases." That got even
more looks of horror.

   "The other reason," he said, "goes more to that genetic component of sex
we were talking about.  When a woman shaves her pubic hair, it puts her
sexual organ on display.  It entices and inflames the male to use that
organ ...  to touch it and lick it and get her ready for the main event."

   He saw jaws drop all around the table and drove on.  "It can work the
same way for the male.  His hair can be distracting, and shaving it off
puts him on display in a way that shows his testes, which are the symbol of
his virility, thus inflaming the woman to pay homage to that virility by
making herself available."

   They were speechless.

   "Now, as I said, I don't usually get into that speech until later on,
when you wouldn't be quite so shocked by the frankness of the discussion,
but you wanted an example, so I gave it to you.  At THIS point in time, the
thought of shaving may seem strange and perverse to some of you.  Some of
you may have already figured out why shaving pubic hair can be erotic. 
It's not for everyone.  There's always an obverse side to any argument
about things like that."

   Then he told them that one reason to LEAVE pubic hair in place was
because it collected scents that ALSO could inflame a potential partner. 
It just depended on the people involved, and the biology they were born
with.

   "If that's all true," said Tiffany, "then why are there so many things
on the market to erase the very odors you're talking about?"

   "You have just unveiled the third aspect of sexuality that affects us
all, and our relationships," said Bob, delighted that she had asked the
question.  He ticked them off on his fingers.
One: The biological urge to mate.
Two: Societal rules that regulate sexual behavior.
Three: Madison Avenue, which is interested in money, and has known for
decades that number one drives the train.  Their job is to sell you all
kinds of products that you don't need, to have sex that comes naturally. 
But they affect the way you think about sex, and therefore, you buy into
what they're selling, even though you don't need any of it.

   "Deodorant is kind of nice," said Jeff.

   "How many of you, not counting Lori," said Bob, smiling at the still
slack-jawed girl, "have smelled your underarms after sex?"

   No one spoke.  They were all waiting for someone else to.  So Bob spoke
for them.

   "All of you have.  It's impossible to miss.  It's a horrible odor ... 
right?" He got some nods.  "You might be interested to know that DURING
sex, that odor drives you to orgasm.  It's a pheromone that makes you keep
going until you have achieved successful mating.  It's there all the time.
But AFTER sex, even though it's the SAME odor, it's distasteful.  Why? 
Because after you've had sex, you're supposed to separate ...  the man to
regenerate, and the woman to lie there and let the sperm fertilize her."

   "But I like to cuddle after sex," complained Roberta.

   "Your feet smell," said Bob.  "You don't cut them off because of that
... do you?  You live with some things, because other things they're
involved with are more important."

   They were quiet, which meant they were thinking, and that's what Bob
wanted them to do.

   "Let's break for lunch," he said.  "We'll get back together in the
afternoon and discuss what you've just experienced.

   They were ready for a break.

   But they wouldn't wait until after lunch to discuss it.

   ===================================

   Bob gave them space to talk, instead of joining them for lunch.  He knew
that they would talk, and he'd like to have been there, since they would
talk about it in a group.  Usually, at this stage of things, couples still
sat apart, and discussed things privately.

   They knew him in the kitchen, and he simply went there to get something
to eat.  He didn't want them looking across the dining room at him, and
talking about whether to invite him to eat with them or not.  He wanted
them to talk.

   ===================================

   They had all chosen the buffet, rather than ordering off the menu. 
Tiffany sat, looking at her plate.  She always got more than she needed at
a buffet.

   "I wonder what he meant about ...  exercises?" she asked to no one in
particular.

   "Exercises?" asked Jeff, clearly confused.

   "Yeah ...  don't you remember?  He said that he'd have to change the
curriculum ...  take out the exercises.  What kind of exercises do you
think he was talking about?"

   "Exercises are exercises," said Crystal, forking some salad into her
mouth.

   "You mean side straddle hops and stuff like that," said Chuck.  Crystal
nodded and shrugged.

   "I don't think so," said Tiffany, finally picking up a chicken finger
and taking a bite.  "Why would he have married couples doing things like
that?"

   Chuck snorted.  "Probably because a healthy body makes for better sex,
or some such thing." He rolled his eyes.  "It all sounds like a bunch of
psycho-babble to me.  He makes it sound like sex is all humans ever think
about."

   Tiffany swallowed and looked at him.  "How many of us have you checked
out since we got here?" she asked.  "Us women, of course." She smiled a
brilliant smile.

   Chuck looked down.  "What difference does that make?" he asked, sounding
a bit sulky.

   "It's what he was talking about," interjected Crystal.  "Remember, I was
in the hot tub with you when these two came out wearing those suits and you
about couldn't keep your eyes in your head."

   "Really?" asked Roberta, perking up.  Then she slumped.  "He was
probably looking at Tiffany.  She's gorgeous."

   "I don't know," said Jeff, smiling.  "You both left me pretty much
helpless."

   Tiffany's laugh tinkled.  "If that was helpless, I don't want to be
around you when you're able to act on your impulses."

   Jeff quit smiling.  "What do you mean?"

   Crystal stared straight at him.  "She was holding your shirt up while
they ...  escorted you to the tub.  It was pretty obvious you'd been
thinking of all that stuff Bob says we all think about."

   "What are you talking about?" asked Jeff uneasily.

   "What she's trying to say in a decent teacherly way," said Roger, "is
that you had an erection.  Don't tell me you didn't know that."

   Everybody looked at Jeff and he squirmed uncomfortably.

   "I was right there while they were talking about swim suits and how they
fit, or didn't fit or whatever.  Then they changed right in the next room.
What was I supposed to think about?"

   "Your wife," said Tiffany, grinning.  "Isn't that the rule society has
set for all you married guys?"

   "Bob's right about the rules," said Roger.  "There are lots of them, and
a whole bunch are unwritten rules ...  like things you're not supposed to
even think about, much less act on."

   "So?" said Roberta, thinking about all the things she'd thought about
recently that broke one rule or another.  "Those rules have worked pretty
well for thousands of years, haven't they?"

   Roger laughed.  "You've got to be kidding!  Do you honestly think
American society has a healthy attitude toward sex?  Divorces are over
fifty percent ...  teenagers get pregnant all the time ...  somebody even
invented a drug to help take advantage of women while they're freaking
UNCONSCIOUS, for Pete's sake!" He jabbed his fork excitedly as he spoke.

   "Calm down," said Tiffany.  "Look at the strides we've taken in the last
hundred years.  Women can vote, slavery was abolished.  We're even making
pretty significant steps in the Civil Rights area.  We're not all that
bad."

   Roger put his fork down, his face stern.

   "Let's just talk about that for a minute.  You all are too young to
remember it, but when I was a kid, I used to sit and read National
Geographic for hours.  They had pictures and articles in that magazine
about civilizations they always called 'primitive'.  Some of these were
people who had never seen a white man in their entire history.  They were
living simple lives.  Everybody ran around naked, or mostly naked.  They
had their mating rituals, and they did fine."

   He took a breath.

   "Then along came the white man, to 'improve' their lives.  We introduced
them to modern medicine, which helped them some, but not nearly as much as
we thought it would.  We introduced them to capitalism, which meant they
started overusing their resources.  We told them they were heathens, and
made them ashamed of their bodies - made them wear clothes."

   He looked around, scowling.

   "Back then, a girl could walk down the street alone at night - in BOTH
cultures - and the only thing she was afraid of was getting bit by
mosquitoes.  What we gave those cultures when we 'helped' them was guilt,
and rape and the lust for money that they didn't need before we showed up.
At the same time, we made our own society into a place where a fifteen year
old girl has to have a bodyguard to go anywhere, and ten year old girls are
abducted, raped and killed!"

   He leaned back, his appetite gone.

   "And you call that progress?  You call that a healthy society?"

   "I thought we were talking about rules," said Chuck, uncomfortably.

   Roger threw up his hands.  "We ARE talking about rules.  We imposed our
rules on them, because when we got there, and saw happy, naked people
minding their own business, we wanted to have sex with them!  But our rules
said we couldn't do that, so instead of controlling our own urges, we made
them wear clothes, and told them to be ashamed of their bodies.  We imposed
our rules on them, and those wonderful, beautiful, innocent cultures have
vanished as a result.  Ours has too.  Now, it's all about following the
rules, instead of just being human!"

   "You can't just have sex with anybody you feel like having sex with,"
said Tiffany.

   "Why not?" asked Roger, so wound up that he wiggled in his chair.  "You
see someone you're attracted to.  You say 'Hey, I like you ...  wanna do
it?'.  She either says 'OK' or 'Not in a million years' and you go from
there.  What's so hard about that?"

   He was faced with startled looks, and silence.  What he'd said made a
lot of sense to most of them, but it wasn't possible.  Things just couldn't
work that way.  It sounded too good to be true, so it must have a fault in
the logic somewhere.

   On an individual level, their thoughts were more specific.  Jane reacted
to his impassioned speech by thinking "I want to have sex with HIM", and
then her mind went a little crazy as she tried to determine if "HIM" was
her father, or Roger ...  or maybe somebody else, like her old study
partner, Paul.

   Chuck thought about being able to turn to Tiffany and simply say "I have
this thing for cheerleaders, and I'm really attracted to you ...  you wanna
do it?" He almost laughed as he thought about all the different ways she
could respond.

   Tiffany found herself evaluating all the men at the table, in terms of
what she'd do if they all said "Let's do it ...  please?" She had no idea
how she'd react.  It had been so long since she'd had intimacy in her life.
She thought briefly what it might be like to just say yes to them all.  She
pushed that thought away instantly.

   Woody looked at Crystal, sitting there, impossibly tall and aloof.  Her
aloofness had only made her more interesting ...  a challenge.  He liked
her, and his errant thoughts about her as a woman trickled through his mind
like soft rain falling.  She'd never agree to some of the things he had in
mind, but it sure would be nice to be able to just talk with her about
them.

   Lori was thinking about the things she'd seen on Real Sex, the night
before.  It was a whole new world for her.  The ease with which those
people had talked about sex made them seem like THEY were from a whole
different culture.  She had so many questions.  Guilt for just wanting to
ask questions about sex played a huge role in her life, and she imagined
her parents as the ones who actually went to those cultures Roger had
talked about, and ruined them.

   Roberta and Jeff were thinking almost identically how, in a world like
Roger had suggested, when their spouses neglected them, they could just go
find someone else to be intimate with ...  to fall in love with ...  to
share things with.  Both of them were thinking that married people can't
even have any good friends of the opposite sex, because of unwritten rules.

   Of them all, Crystal was the one least affected by Roger's speech.  She
knew that the rules would never change.  She knew she'd always be too tall,
and that interest in a man shorter than her, no matter how strong, would
always lose out to the rules.  Short men didn't ride off into the sunset
with tall women.  It just didn't happen that way.  And the vast majority of
available men were short.  All she felt was more of the same frustration
she'd been feeling since her divorce.

   They all ate silently for a while.  Eventually, the conversation started
up again, but they didn't talk about Bob, or what he'd said.  Fantasy and
role playing were never discussed.  To be honest, their thoughts about
rules consumed all their attention.  Still, all of them were ...  somehow
...  eager to get back to the seminar.

   ===============================

   "OK," said Bob, when they were all assembled again.  "On with the show."

   Tiffany raised her hand.  "I have a question," she said.  "We were
talking at lunch."

   "About rules?" asked Bob, "Or about fantasy?" He smiled.  "Or both."

   Tiffany blinked.  "Rules."

   "And your question?" urged Bob.

   "You have to work within the framework of the rules that society has set
down," she said.  "Otherwise you're going to be an outcast." She looked at
Bob.

   "And your question?" asked Bob again.

   She jerked, realizing she'd thought the question was obvious ...  but
wasn't.

   "So, if you have to follow the rules, what's the point of all this?"

   Bob nodded.

   "The point of all this is to make the rules work for you, instead of
against you.  That's where the fantasy and role playing come in.  You can
imagine yourself to be in any situation ...  even a situation that's
against the rules.  When you role play with your partner, you can choose
any role ...  any scenario ...  any situation."

   "But that's sick!" blurted Jane.  "What if somebody imagines something
like ...  incest!"

   "Is it sick to love someone?" asked Bob.

   Jane's brow twisted.  "No ...  yes!" She slumped.  "Maybe ...  Oh, I
don't know."

   "Let's define love," said Bob, picking up his light pen.  "What is
love?"

   "Caring," said Woody.

   Bob wrote down: "Caring for another more than you care for yourself."

   "OK," said Woody, nodding.

   "Sacrifice," said Roberta.

   Bob wrote: "Giving to the one you love, even if it conflicts with your
own wants."

   "Shouldn't that be 'needs', instead of 'wants'," asked Crystal.

   Bob wrote down: "Recognizing what your partner needs to be emotionally
fulfilled, and trying to provide that."

   "Oh," said Crystal, seeing the difference immediately.

   "Isn't attraction in there somewhere?" asked Chuck, trying to
rationalize his attraction to Tiffany.

   Bob wrote: "Finding something about your partner that attracts you, and
concentrating on that."

   "Wait a minute," said Jeff.  "Isn't attraction the first step?"

   "It can be," said Bob.  "It usually is, normally.  But the fact is you
can fall in love with anyone, whether they're attractive or not."

   "You're talking the famous 'inner beauty', aren't you?" asked Crystal.

   "Yes, I am," said Bob.  "In fact, finding that inner beauty ...  that
thing that attracts you more than the physical side of things, is what
makes for the best and longest relationships.  Inner beauty trumps exterior
looks any day of the week."

   "But that means that that genetic thingy you were talking about," said
Jane, "might make you reject someone that you shouldn't reject!"

   "Very true," said Bob, smiling.  "We cut our chances for true happiness
down to about ten percent, just because of our initial genetic evaluation
of others."

   "I think looks counts for more than that," said Jeff, who had chosen
Mandy because she was a stone fox.  She turned out to be a stone bitch too,
but she was a beautiful stone bitch.

   "In young relationships, looks and sex are very important," said Bob. 
"But, eventually, the looks fade away.  Some couples stay together
regardless of that ...  even still find each other sexually attractive,
even though the looks are gone.  That's because they love the PERSON they
are with, and not the image, or appearance."

   "So all those guys who have a mid-life crisis, and seek out younger
women are just obeying their genes," said Tiffany, who had been approached
more than once by an older man.

   "Yup," said Bob.  "They're still thinking with their balls, instead of
their brain." He held up a hand.  "But ...  if such a man was with a woman
he loved, and she loved him too, she could take on the role of that younger
woman, and work with his wants."

   "But if he really loved her," argued Tiffany, "he wouldn't WANT a
younger woman."

   "The genetic drive is always there," Bob reminded her.  "I remind you
again of Hugh Hefner.  Lots of eighty year old men lust after teenaged
women.  It's a natural thing to do.  But, if going after those teenagers
would cause too many problems, and his mate is willing to take on the role
of one of them ...  they both can have a great time."

   "Isn't that perverted?" asked Lori.

   "Remember," said Bob.  "Perversion is a rule, established by a culture.
That doesn't make it a good rule."

   "So, the little French maid wasn't ...  perverted?" asked Crystal.

   "In the sense that you didn't want to do that, it was," said Bob.  "Had
you been willing to offer that to your husband, it would have just been
consenting role play between two adults, who were completely entitled to
enjoy that kind of sex."

   "The perversion was in MY mind," said Crystal, looking stunned.

   "I'd say so," agreed Bob.  "Couples often run aground on the rocks of
their personal feelings and beliefs."

   "And that's where you come in," said Roger.  "With your seminars."

   "Yes," said Bob.

   "So ..." ventured Jane, thinking about the role playing she'd done, that
time when she and Paul had had sex, instead of studying together.  She'd
pretended he was her father, and he'd pretended to BE her father.  It had
been glorious ...  until the guilt had set in.  She still didn't know how
to feel about that.  She'd been cheating on Jed, in her mind, and being
perverted for both that, and wanting to have sex with her own father. 
"Wouldn't that kind of role play be like ...  cheating?"

   Bob leaned back.  "You walk a fine line here.  I'll admit that.  Let me
start by hypothesizing that fantasy isn't cheating.  Neither is role
playing.  Neither one HAS to mean that the partner wants someone else in
reality.  Variety is the spice of life, and healthy role playing provides
all those different partners that the genes seem to want."

   He held up a hand to stop her from saying anything.

   "On the other hand, if role playing actually makes a partner WANT to
cheat, with another person, that's not a loving kind of thing to do.  It
gets complicated because there are two people in the relationship.  Some
partners don't mind if the other partner has multiple sexual relationships.
Some do.  It's all part of the communication I was talking about.  Before
any of you start role playing, there has to be communication about what the
purpose of that role playing is."

   "Are you talking about wife swapping?" asked Lori, her eyes huge.  Part
of the program she'd watched on HBO was about wife swapping, and making
movies of doing that.  The husbands and wives involved very plainly said
they thought it was sexy to think of their mate having sex with another
person.

   "That's an example," said Bob.  "People in a committed monogamy can role
play that they're having sex with other people.  That doesn't mean they
should go out and actually HAVE sex with other people.  But some others get
a kick out of sharing their mate, and actually having multiple partners,
just for sex.  But there has to be good communication to decide what the
loving thing is to do.  If somebody's unhappy, that means what's going on
isn't a good idea."

   They thought about that for a few moments.  It was Roberta who broke the
silence.

   "So ...  if you're not happy ...  with the way things are, I mean ... 
how do you decide what to try?"

   "Well, you start with communication.  The first thing that has to be
discussed is that one, or both of you, aren't happy.  From there, you need
to decide whether both of you are willing to do anything to correct the
situation.  Then, if both ARE willing, you can start discussing what both
of you want, and what both of you need.  It's an ongoing process, but it
all hinges on communication."

   "What if one doesn't want to communicate?" asked Jeff.

   "That makes it very difficult to resolve things," said Bob.  "I said
it's almost never too late to make positive strides, but it can be.  That's
part of the process too.  At some point, a decision has to be made about
whether a relationship can be salvaged, and whether or not it's worth
salvaging."

   "How can we practice communication with no partners here?" asked Roger.

   Bob smiled.  "I've been thinking about that.  I usually do little
exercises with the couples, where they practice communication.  There are
other exercises too, but I don't think that would be good in this
situation. But this group CAN practice communication ...  if you're all
willing."

   He got guarded looks.

   "What would we have to do?" asked Crystal.

   "Talk," said Bob.

   "That's it?" asked the tall woman.

   "It's harder than it sounds," said Bob.  "I'd split you up into practice
pairs, and then, the two of you would talk.  But, for this to work, you
both have to be willing to talk about anything ...  whatever's on your mind
at the moment.  This kind of conversation should be frank and open.  Tell
each other how you feel, and what you want.  Don't leave room for
misunderstanding.  It's hard, but it works better in the long run.  It
calls for sticking your neck out, because you will have to be able to say
anything that's on your mind, and the other person has to promise not to
take offense, or take things personally."

   "I don't know if I can do that," said Crystal softly.

   "It should actually be a lot easier than it would be if you DID have a
significant other here.  In this setting, you really have nothing to lose.
You all didn't know each other before you came here, isn't that right?" Bob
sounded very reasonable.

   He got nods from all.

   "And you'll all be going back to your schools and may never meet again.
If you try this, you may learn something very important, and that's the
incredible freedom of being able to say exactly what you are thinking,
without worrying about screwing something up.  Then, when you ARE in a
relationship, you know how to do that.  All you have to do is teach the
other person, and you're off to the races."

   There was a profound silence, along with some darted looks around the
table.

   It was Jane who was driven to ask the question.  She raised her hand,
just like a student in one of her classes.

   "Yes, Jane," said Bob.

   "How ...  um ...  would you ...  um ...  decide who goes with ... 
whom?"

   Crystal couldn't wait to hear the answer, because her own panic
threshold had just about been met.

   "All we have to do is talk ...  right?" she almost begged.

   "That's all," said Bob.  "Just talk honestly with your partner.  If it
works out well, we could switch partners as the week goes along, so that
everybody gets to talk to everybody else.  You all have different
personalities, and that's what it will be like with people you meet and are
interested in forming a relationship with." He smiled at Jeff and Roberta,
and added: "Except for you old married folks, anyway."

   He turned back to Jane.  "Actually, Jane, to answer your question, I
thought I'd let you all pick your first partners.  You've all been around
each other for a little while.  You could pick someone you think you could
talk with on a basis like I've described." Several people looked like panic
was about to set in.  "Or," he went on quickly, "I could just assign
partners.  Whichever you all feel better about is fine with me."

   Woody raised his hand too.  "I don't get it.  At least I don't think I
get it.  What are we supposed to talk about, again?"

   Bob stood up, indicating that action was about to take place.  It was a
well known cue, and the people around the table moved in response,
automatically getting ready to do ...  something.

   "Talk about anything that's on your mind.  The critical element here is
that you speak from the heart, about how you honestly feel.  It can be how
you feel about food, or your dreams, or your plans for the future.  You can
talk about interior decorating, or sex, or anything in between.  All I ask
is that what you talk about actually means something in your life." He
looked around.  "Now, are we ready?  Time's a-wastin' and this will take a
lot longer than you think before you are comfortable enough to get to the
good stuff."

   "How do we pick a partner?" asked Roger, looking helpless.  He assumed
none of the women would be interested in talking to him, or listening while
he talked.

   "I'd suggest that Roberta and Jeff think about being partners," said
Bob. Both of them looked like they were in pain.  "That's only because
they're married, and have issues on their minds that concern marriage. 
Each is more likely to understand, if not sympathize with, the other's
concerns.  As for the rest of you, use your gut instinct."

   Lori raised her hand too.  "There are more women than men," she pointed
out.

   "I'll be in this exercise too, then," said Bob.  "And I'd like to pick
you, Lori."

   "Me?" she squeaked.

   "Your level of experience with the world seems a bit less than most of
the others.  It might be easier for you to talk to me, only because I'm a
therapist.  I suspect you have some questions about ...  things."

   "Yes!" she squeaked again.  "I do!" She looked surprised.  "OK.  Yes. 
That's a good idea!"

   "OK, then," said Bob, picking up his things.  "We'll meet back here
after breakfast tomorrow, and see how things went." He looked at Lori. 
"Lori?  If I may have the pleasure of your company ...  perhaps a walk?"

   She beamed.  "Why THANK you," she said excitedly.  "I'd like that very
much!"

   "Wait!" yelled Tiffany.  "We haven't chosen partners yet!"

   "Well get to it," said Bob.  "Lori and I will be gone for as long as we
feel like it, and then we'll have supper together.  If you haven't been
able to choose by then, I'll assign partners."

   He offered Lori his arm and she fairly danced as she took it.  He
escorted her out of the room, leaving the others standing and staring, as
if shell-shocked.  He wondered how long it would be before one of them
realized he was making them use their genes to make a decision.

   Chapter Four: Lori and Bob

   Bob walked Lori out and off the center grounds, out into the desert,
which, for him, symbolized her sex life ...  a barren wasteland.  The
conference center, which represented everyone else's sex life, and was
bright and modern and comfortable, was within sight, but "over there".  He
wanted her in an inhospitable place to begin their talk.

   She was light on her feet, young, agile, and full of energy.

   "What shall we talk about?" she asked, almost formally.

   "I'd like to hear about you," said Bob.  "Where you grew up, what your
parents are like, if you had a dog, or another pet of some kind, who you
felt close to ...  things like that," he said.

   "Oh," she said, apprehensively.  "That would be boring, probably."

   "Not to me," said Bob.  "I'm interested in you."

   She cocked her head and looked at him.  "Like a patient, you mean."

   He shook his head.  "Nope.  As a young woman."

   She stopped.  "Why?" she asked.

   Bob stopped too.  "Well, let's see.  You're a young and vibrant woman.
You must be intelligent, because you're only twenty three and already a
real teacher.  You're pretty in a way that appeals to the man in me.  How's
that for starters?"

   She seemed to be chewing on all that mentally.

   "I'm not really a teacher," she said, almost sadly.  "Not yet anyway.  I
mean I graduated, and I've been hired, but I've never even seen my
classroom.  They sent me to this seminar before I even reported for work. I
thought I was going to teach Social Studies, not Sex Ed."

   "That must be a scary thing," said Bob.

   "Yes!" she said.  "It is.  I'm scared of lots of things."

   "We can talk about those too," said Bob, "if you want to."

   "I wouldn't know where to start," said Lori sadly.  "I'm really glad I
got away from my parents - they're scared of things too - but when I left,
I saw such odd things ..." She stopped, her mind whirling, unable to pick
one of those strange things she'd seen to talk about.  She thought back to
what he'd said earlier.

   "I had a dog back home," she said hopefully.  "His name was Buster."

   "Are you going to get another dog when you get settled?" asked Bob.  "Or
maybe go back and get Buster and bring him to your new home?"

   She looked shocked.  "I never even thought about that!" she said.  "I
could DO that ...  couldn't I?"

   "You're an adult, out in the big wide world," said Bob.  "You can make
all kinds of choices now."

   "I really CAN ...  can't I!" She looked astonished, somehow.  Bob
wondered how she'd ever made it through college.  It had to have been a
cloistered school of some sort, where she was protected.

   "Where did you go to college?" he asked.

   So she told him about her school, and how different it had been from
home.  That got her talking about home, and what that had been like. 
Through it all, Bob noticed she never said a word about sex.

   "Can I ask you a personal question?" asked Bob.

   She was more comfortable now, and they were walking again, though to no
particular destination.  "Sure," she chirped.

   "You're going to teach sexual education, when you get to your new
school. What was your own sexual education like?"

   She threw up her hands.

   "I don't know BEANS about sex!" she said heatedly.  "My mother told me
such horrid stories about what happens if you have sex that I was scared to
death to even look at a boy.  Not that there were any around.  My school
only had girls in it.  Some of them went out with boys.  They said they did
things, but I didn't really believe them.  At least, not until last night."

   Bob decided not to ask her about what happened last night.  She looked
upset about it.  It would come up later, he knew.

   "Tell me what your mother said about sex," suggested Bob.

   She did, at length, and that led to some of the things the girls in her
college had talked about.  She was obviously torn between being properly
horrified, and curious.  She stopped again, and looked at Bob, like she was
afraid.

   "If I tell you something ...  you won't make fun of me ...  will you?"
she asked earnestly.

   "Never," said Bob firmly.

   "Last night ...  in my room ...  there was this TV show on.  I never saw
anything LIKE it before!  There were all these people and they were naked
and making movies and one of the women gave this man a BLOW job ...  right
there in FRONT of EVERYBODY!  I heard about them in school, and it sounded
SO nasty ...  I didn't really believe anybody would DO that!" She looked
confused.  "But these people on the TV ...  they looked like they were
having FUN!" She looked at him imploringly.  "Until last night, I never in
my whole LIFE saw a penis ...  and on the TV there must have been five or
six of them, all at one time!"

   "How did that make you feel?" asked Bob, keeping his face straight.

   "Scared," she said instantly.

   "Why?" asked Bob.

   "I don't know.  I got all these funny feelings in my body, like I was
nervous or something.  I wanted to get up and move around, but I couldn't
take my eyes off the TV.  I had to go, but I didn't want to miss anything.
I almost peed my PANTS until I finally couldn't take it and went to the
bathroom!"

   Bob turned.  It was about time to begin wandering back toward the
center.

   "Those feelings in your body," he said, "are caused by all kinds of
hormones that your body makes, and releases.  They're designed to help your
body get ready to have sex."

   "But I don't want to have sex!" she squealed.  "Why would my body do
that?"

   "Remember that genetic imperative I was talking about?" he reminded her.
"Man and woman were made, genetically speaking, to have sex.  It's normal.
What your mother was telling you was her attempt to protect you from having
sex too soon in your life."

   She looked at him, her eyes worried.  "So, you're telling me my body
wants to have sex?"

   "Uh huh," he said.  "But that doesn't mean you have to.  Those feelings
won't go away, but there are ways to handle them without actually having
sex with somebody."

   "You mean like the girls at school talked about ...  by ...  touching
yourself." she said softly.  "My mother said that will cause you to go
insane."

   Bob didn't laugh.  "Sometimes you feel like you're going insane, but
that's just hormones and emotions.  Like when you were watching TV last
night.  All that energy you felt was just hormones and emotions, looking
for an outlet.  If it makes you feel any better, I've masturbated for years
and years, and I don't think I went insane."

   She stopped again, looking at him wide eyed.  "Really?  You do that?"

   "Sure do," he said.  "I don't have a special lady to help me with all my
own emotions and hormones, so I have to take care of that myself."

   She seemed to want to think about things, so Bob steered her toward the
cafeteria.  She didn't seem to mind the touch of his fingertips on her
elbow, or the middle of her back, and she smiled and thanked him when he
held the door open for her.  He noticed that several of the other couples
were already at dinner.  The pairings he saw didn't surprise him too much,
based on his earlier observations.  He smiled at Crystal, but only got a
steady stare back.

   It was during the meal that Lori started talking again.

   "You know, after I got to college I knew my mother was being a little
paranoid about things.  I don't know too much about my grandparents, or
what they were like and all that, but in college they told us that we raise
our kids like we were raised, because that's the only thing we know.  I bet
my grandparents told her all those things about how nasty sex is and all
that."

   "I suspect you're right about that," said Bob.

   "And what I see now tells me that something is wrong.  Her view of sex,
and what I heard about in school and saw on TV just don't match.  Somebody
is wrong.  I just don't know who."

   Bob nodded.  "Most kids get to experiment with members of the opposite
sex, when they're young.  They learn, like the rest of us, by trial and
error.  By the time they're your age, they've had their hearts broken a
couple of times, but they have some idea of what it feels like to be in
love.  Most people your age have tried sex, in one way or another, and know
how they feel about that too.  The way you were raised didn't let you do
any of those things, so I wouldn't feel too badly about being confused."

   "So, what do I do?" she asked helplessly.

   "Well, I think some experimentation is in order," said Bob.  "You need
to find you some nice young man, and get to know him.  He'll probably be
more experienced than you, so he'll want to go faster than you will, but if
you communicate with him about that, you should be able to experiment with
him and find out some of the things you missed when you were growing up."

   She frowned.  "But I won't even get to my new school for another month,
and then I won't know anybody, and I'll be busy.  I have to find a place to
live, and open a bank account and all that.  Then school sill start.  The
kids I have in my classes will have more experience than I do, at least
according to you.  I want to be a good teacher, but I'm afraid I'll be too
stupid to do a good job, especially in sex ed!"

   "You have the rest of your life to learn things," said Bob.  "And
they'll provide you with a curriculum for your classes.  It won't be so
bad. You've done fine so far, haven't you?"

   "No!" she said vehemently.  "I never even imagined people could be like
they were on that TV show.  I thought all sex was done in private, and only
to make a baby.  I didn't even think my parents HAD sex after I was born.
Now I'm finding out my mother lied to me, and the world isn't like that at
all!"

   "Your mother didn't lie to you, exactly," said Bob, putting his
fingertips on the top of her hand.  "She just told you what she thought
would protect you."

   Lori was staring at his hand, touching hers.  She didn't move her own,
but she looked so intense that he almost moved his away.  She looked up.

   "One of the men ...  on that TV show.  He was standing there, getting
ready to have sex, and he was rubbing his penis.  That's masturbating ...
right?"

   "Yes," said Bob.

   "Why would he do that, when he was about to have sex?"

   "It feels good to rub your penis," said Bob.  "That's why I do it.  It
just plain feels good.  And if I do it correctly, I can have an orgasm, and
all that sexual tension is released."

   She stared at him.  Until this very moment, had some man talked to her
this frankly, she'd have screamed bloody murder.  But Bob seemed so normal
...  so unthreatening.

   "Instead of me waiting to find some man," she said, looking at him. 
"You could teach me."

   Bob did move his hand then.  "I don't think that's a good idea," he said
softly.

   She sat up straight.  "Of course it is!" She actually wiggled in her
seat.  "You're older, and more experienced.  You already know how scared I
am about all this, and how stupid I am about sex.  You're patient, and nice
and I don't think I'd be so scared with you.  I feel like I could
communicate with you really easy!"

   "Sweetheart," said Bob softly, "This is a big step you're talking about
taking.  Things happen very fast, even when you try to take them slowly. 
Sex can be overwhelming for someone like you.  And we only have a week. 
You need to be able to stretch things out, and take months to get to know
each other and move forward slowly."

   "Nobody ever called me sweetheart before," said Lori.  "That just proves
how nice you are.  You have to help me, Bob.  I have so many questions, and
there's so much I don't know, and I want to be a good teacher."

   Bob gave it another try.  "You don't have to be sexually experienced to
be a good teacher."

   "I know that, but I'd be a better teacher if I knew more than I do now."
She looked at him with serious eyes.  "Besides, you said I was attractive.
Did you put me in the 'acceptable' group, or that other one you were
talking about, where you're not interested in me after all?"

   Bob just looked at her.  What did he do now?  He'd been interested in
finding out more about her, because she seemed almost crippled by her
innocence.  His plan had been simply to loosen her up a little, to get her
to look at the world as a place that had lots of options, and get her to
think about some of them that she might not otherwise have contemplated
seriously.  She had already done that, taking a leap of a light year,
instead of the small step forward he'd had in mind.  He suddenly had an
mental image of the future, if he denied her what she was asking.  He saw
her throwing herself at every man she met, trying to find one who would
help her get experience.  Most men would be happy to "help" her, and she'd
be used and abused in the process.

   Before he meant to say anything, he heard his voice say "OK." He jerked
his thoughts back to the present.  "I'll help you explore, but only a
little bit.  We can work on how to conduct yourself in social situations,
without committing yourself too far, too fast.  How's that?"

   "We can start tonight!" she said excitedly.  "What do we do first?"

   Bob looked at her.  She was wearing clothing that was gray and almost
lumpy looking.  "Dowdy" was the term applied to such clothing in an earlier
day.  Her hair had been washed, and pulled back, to lie behind her ears. 
Her braces gleamed in the light of the cafeteria.

   "Let's go shopping," said Bob.  "We'll get you a new outfit, and spend
more time talking, like we were on a date."

   She stood up, her meal forgotten.  "OK, let's go," she said eagerly.

   =============================

   Bob drove her to Phoenix, to a mall.  She'd been to malls with some of
the girls in her college, and Bob found that she was a mysterious mixture
of being both sadly out of date, and fully capable of negotiating the
masses at the mall.  He was reminded of the Tarzan story, where the young
man was brought from the jungle, to the city, where his skills put him
ahead of people in some situations, and his ignorance made him completely
helpless in others.

   She had no idea what kind of clothing to choose, even though there were
people all around her dressed in all kinds of clothing.  Bob helped her
pick out a plum colored skirt, and a blouse with matching colors in a light
floral design.  He felt like everyone was staring at them when he took her
to the lingerie section to pick out undergarments.  She gravitated toward
the basic, plain bras, and he encouraged her to move to the racier, sexier
garments.

   "Why would that matter?" she asked.

   "I want you to feel feminine and attractive," he said.  "Knowing that,
at some time, some man may see you in these undergarments, I want you to
think they make you look sexy too."

   "I'll never look sexy," she said, as if it were simple fact.

   "You already are sexy," he said gently.

   "I am?" she was clearly surprised.

   "You are," he said.  "When I first saw you I put you in the acceptable
category, but then took you out because you were so much younger than I
am."

   "You did?" Her eyes were big.

   "I did," he confirmed.  "For purposes of this experiment, you're not too
young any more.  People will probably think I'm your uncle, or older
brother, but that's OK.  Who cares what people think?"

   "I have an uncle," said Lori.  "He gets in trouble a lot with my
parents. He's wild and crazy.  I like him."

   "We can talk later," said Bob.  "Choose something frilly and lacy."

   "I can't," she moaned.  "You choose for me."

   "OK," he said, "but I may choose something really slinky."

   "I don't care," she said.  "I don't know how to do any of this.  You
just do it, OK?  I'll wear whatever you pick out."

   Bob made three selections and handed them to her.  She wasn't paying
attention, having been distracted by a display of earrings.  Bob picked out
a pair that had three dangly ropes, about an inch and a half long, that
sparkled.  He handed them to her too, and, when the sales clerk suggested
the matching necklace, threw that in as well.

   "Let's go," he said.  "This is my treat.  You're a struggling young
teacher, and I'm your date, so I'll pay."

   "This is too much!" sighed Lori.  "You're spending too much."

   "It's all just part of my plan to get you naked and horny." He smiled as
her eyes opened wide and she looked startled.

   Then she grinned.  "Oh ...  you!  You're just funning me!  You should be
ashamed of yourself!"

   Bob paid for the items.  He hadn't been teasing her at all.  He did plan
on seeing this young woman naked.  That might be all that happened, but he
wanted her to know she was attractive ...  to see lust in a man's eyes when
he looked at her.  Bob could handle it if nothing else happened.  If she
accepted his advances, then he'd think about being ashamed for seducing
her. He had been chosen as an extramarital partner before ...  many times,
but those situations had been different.  This girl was the picture of
innocence, and he needed to be careful with her, or she'd get hurt.  He
didn't want that, though the thought of her in the bras and panties he'd
picked out painted a very sexy picture indeed.

   =================================

   The next stop was the resort beauty shop, which had an on-call
beautician named Heidi, who doubled up as an additional bartender/waitress
in the bar.  She was more than happy to get away from the smoke and noise,
and see what she could do with the mousy young woman with Bob.  Heidi knew
Bob, and knew what kind of seminars he gave.  She had served many of his
customers, and had heard many of their stories.

   Heidi spent an hour and a half on Lori.  She did a good job.  In fact,
thought Bob, as Lori walked hesitantly out of the little beauty shop under
one of the stairwells, she did a GREAT job.  Lori wasn't so sure about
that. She'd taken her new purchases into the shop with her, and when Heidi
found out about it, she went the extra mile and dressed Lori too.  She
wouldn't have been recognized by her own mother.  That was a good thing,
because her mother would have had a heart attack, if she'd seen Lori now.

   The blouse was cut to scoop low over breasts that, before they were
supported by a push-up bra would have been just fine anyway.  With the bra,
they were spectacular, perched on such a small frame, particularly since
the necklace, nestled in her cleavage, drew one's attention straight to
them.  Heidi had ignored using a razor, and used a depilatory on Lori's
legs.  She shaved them infrequently, only learning to do so in college. 
Nobody noticed, both because she had such fine and light hair on them, and
because nobody ever noticed Lori anyway.

   That would no longer be the case.

   The skirt hugged hips that were rounded, but smaller looking than her
bust.  Her hair had been swept up, somehow, exposing her neck, and was held
in place with clips that, amazingly enough, went with the hues of the skirt
and blouse.  The earrings dangled and sparkled, drawing the view naturally
from the other shiny thing about her face, namely her braces.  Bob couldn't
see those now, because Lori wasn't smiling.  She looked terrified.  That,
the glasses, and the tennis shoes she was wearing were the only things that
spoiled the view.  He couldn't do anything about the glasses.  He'd
recommend that, when she started getting paid, she look into contacts.

   Bob hit his forehead with the palm of his hand.  "We forgot shoes," he
said.

   Heidi sniffed.  "Men!" she snorted.  "Can't depend on them for
anything." She turned to Lori.  "Just go barefoot, honey, or slip into some
sandals or something.  Nobody's going to look at your feet anyway."

   "I look weird," said Lori, almost trembling.  "I don't look like myself
at all!"

   "You look fabulous, honey," said Heidi.  "You keep an eye on Bob, now,
you hear me?  He's got some funny ideas, and with you looking like this, he
might get a little feisty." She grinned.

   Lori looked up at Bob, through eyelashes that were suddenly longer, and
fluttered below eye shadow that also went with the clothing.

   "Wow," Bob said softly.  "You outdid yourself, Heidi."

   "I gave her the works, since you're paying." She grinned again.  "I'll
still expect a tip, though."

   "You'll get one," he sighed.  "Lori, you look great."

   "Really?" her voice was high.

   "I'd tell you to walk her through the bar," said Heidi, "but you'd
probably have to carry her half of that distance, once she sees how they
boys look at her now.  So that's probably not a good idea.  I'd be honored
to mix you a drink, though."

   "Maybe one," said Bob, holding out his hand.

   Lori took his hand and stepped forward.  Then she stopped and looked
down at her feet.  She kicked out of her tennis shoes, took her hand from
Bob's, pulled off her socks and stuffed them in the shoes.  Heidi picked
them up.

   "I'll just put these in a bag, with the rest of your stuff, and meet you
in the bar in a minute.  I'll leave everything at the desk and you can pick
it up later."

   ====================================

   Lori sat on the bar stool with some difficulty.  Part of that was
because she was so short.  Mainly, though, she didn't know how to sit on a
bar stool while wearing a skirt that was showing three inches or more of
the flesh above her knees.  She only paid intermittent attention to that,
though, because she was so involved in blushing.  Bob had spoken to the
male bartender, telling him that Heidi was going to get them something in a
few minutes, and then gone off to the bathroom, leaving her alone at the
bar.  In the three minutes he'd been gone, three men had come up to her. 
One had said the most disgusting things she'd ever heard, while the other
two had just asked her if she was alone, and wanted company.  She was sure
her response, such as it was, had made them walk away.

   She hadn't said anything.  She hadn't been able to say anything.  Her
voice wasn't working after the first man suggested that his ten inch prick
would ruin her for any other man, and invited her to take his room key. 
She had no way of knowing that her stare was interpreted as something
vastly more sophisticated than it was, or that the men, when faced with
those blue eyes, felt suddenly vulnerable.  A fourth man was approaching
when she saw Bob coming back.

   "Hey, sweet thing," said the stranger.  "You shore look lonely, sitting
there all by yourself."

   "I see you've met my niece," came Bob's voice from behind the man, who
turned quickly.

   "Oh ...  uh ...  sorry," said the man, backing up.  "No offense."

   "None taken," said Bob smiling.  "Her husband is a professional
wrestler, though, and he might see things a little differently."

   The man's face blanched and he turned and walked away.

   "You OK?" asked Bob, sitting down beside her.

   "They ...  they ...  they came up to me," she said weakly.

   "I should have waited until Heidi was here to leave you alone," said
Bob. "Sorry."

   "One man," she panted.  "He said he had ...  he said it was ...  ten
inches long!" she whispered, leaning toward Bob.

   "He was lying," said Bob calmly.  "It's OK now.  I'm back.  Nobody else
will bother you.  You need to think about it before you dress up like this
again, though, if you're going to be out in places like this alone."

   "I can't believe it," said Lori, her eyes darting around.

   Heidi was suddenly in front of them, smiling.  Lori had never had
anything other than beer, smuggled on campus, and which she hadn't liked at
all.  Heidi mixed her a whiskey sour, with not too much whiskey in it, and
a Tom Collins for Bob, who had ordered them before.

   It took her twenty minutes, and two more whiskey sours, to calm down,
and get used to the idea that all the men in the place were darting glances
at her.  When he thought she'd had enough, he suggested they go for another
walk.

   When they got outside, she was much more comfortable, even though she
was walking bare footed.  Because of that, they stayed on paved surfaces.
Bob got her talking about school, again, getting more details about what
the other girls had talked about, and which subjects she liked the most ...
just light chatter.  Several times they walked by other people.  Both men
and women gave her more than a single glance.  She noticed.

   "People keep looking at me," she whispered.

   "You're beautiful," said Bob.

   "That sounds so strange," she sighed.  "That man ...  the one in the bar
...  he acted like he expected me to just leave with him."

   "Some men will hope for that," said Bob.  "I wouldn't recommend doing
it, though.  You need to wait for a man who will respect you, and pay
attention to who you are, rather than just how you look."

   She looked over at him.  "Like you?"

   "Younger than me," he smiled.  "Probably."

   "You told that man I was your niece," she said.  "I kind of liked that."

   "It was to get him to back off," said Bob.

   "I know," she said, showing that she was thinking again.  "But I liked
it anyway."

   "Let's eat something," suggested Bob.

   They went to the outside bar, this time, ordered sandwiches, and ate
right there at the bar.  The bartender, a young man named Tony, flirted
with Lori.  She didn't know how to react, but, while Lori was gone to the
bathroom, Bob explained that she'd led a very sheltered life, and that
Tony's flirting was doing her good.  When she came back, he kept it up,
coming back to talk to them whenever he wasn't serving some other customer.
Eventually, Lori relaxed a little.  It was a small step forward, the kind
Bob had had in mind for her, and he was glad it worked out that way.

   ===================================

   When they'd finished, it was after ten, so Bob suggested they call their
first "date" to an end, so they'd both be alert in the morning.

   "That's it?" she asked, looking vaguely disappointed somehow.  "I got
all dressed up like this and all we did was walk around and talk?"

   "We had a meal too," said Bob, smiling.  "A first date should be
something light and non-threatening," he added.

   "You'd never be threatening to me," she said.

   "You haven't been out in the desert on a blanket with me." He grinned
and twirled imaginary moustaches.  That was completely lost on her.  She
hadn't seen the stereotype villain on TV that he'd watched as a kid.

   "I'm sure you'd be a complete gentleman," she giggled.

   "With you looking like that," he said, leering, "I'd have been anything
but a gentleman.  I'd have been like that guy in the bar."

   She was innocent, and, to be honest ignorant, but she wasn't stupid. 
She had a good head on her shoulders, and she caught on to things quickly.

   "Oh?" she asked, fluttering her eyelashes at him.  "I suppose you'd be
ten inches long for me too?"

   "Of course not," he said, looking offended.  "I wouldn't cut an inch off
for any woman, no matter how much I liked her."

   She laughed, pleased that she'd gotten the joke, and he laughed with
her, for the same reason.

   "You have to kiss me good night," she said.  "That's what happens on a
date.  I used to watch the girls kiss the boys, out under the porch light,
when they got home from a date."

   "I thought you said you hadn't even kissed a boy yet," said Bob.

   "I haven't," she said without a hint of embarrassment.  "But that's only
because I never went on any dates.  Now I have."

   ======================================

   Bob fell into bed and rolled onto his back.  He was stiff as a board. 
He'd taught Lori to kiss, and, somehow, it had taken another hour and a
half.  They'd started outside her door, and somehow ended up with her
sitting on his lap in the easy chair in her room.  He'd kissed her lips,
and throat, and her ear lobes too, once her earrings were off.  He'd kissed
the top of her chest too, where her cleavage started.  She'd loved every
minute of it, and the urge to just stay there had been strong.

   But, excited as she was about kissing, she wasn't ready for more.  Not
yet.  If things kept going like they had this night, she would be.  There
was a lot of pent up passion in that girl.  She'd gone from first kiss to
French kiss in the short space of about ten minutes, and she kept coming
back for one more kiss.  It had been strange to feel her braces with his
tongue, but it didn't matter.

   He fisted his cock and brought himself off quickly.  He needed to get to
sleep.  She wanted to eat breakfast with him in the morning.

   And she wanted to go on another date tomorrow night.

   ======================================

   Chapter Five: Tiffany and Chuck

   When Bob walked out of the conference room with Lori on his arm, the
others were left to sort things out by themselves.

   Almost immediately, Tiffany turned to Chuck.  "So ...  you have a thing
for cheerleaders."

   He looked down.  "In the worst way," he said, almost sadly.  "It's
actually caused problems in my relationships."

   "You want to talk about that?" she asked.  She'd already looked around
the room and decided that, of all the men, she could handle Chuck the most
easily.  Roger was old enough that she just wasn't interested.  Jeff was
married, and unhappy, and she didn't particularly want to listen to his
tale of woe.  Woody was interesting, but was obviously interested in
Crystal, whether she knew it or not.

   "Uh ...  I don't know," he said uncertainly.  "I'm not too sure.  Like I
said, it's messed up some of my relationships before."

   "Were any of them cheerleaders?" she asked, getting right to the point.

   "No," he said.

   "Well I am one, so I can punch all kinds of holes in your stereotypes
about what we are like ...  were like ...  " She got a little flustered by
suggesting she was still a cheerleader.  That time in her life had been
both wonderful, and agonizing at the same time.  The agonizing part was so
agonizing that she'd been happy to leave her cheerleading days behind her.
Or she thought she had.  Why she still ...  felt ...  like a cheerleader
was confusing.

   "OK," he said, as if he didn't mind at all having holes punched in his
fantasies.

   "Why don't we all just go sit in the hot tub again ...  like last
night," suggested Roberta, a little nervously.

   "We're supposed to be in pairs," said Roger, assuming the dominant role
by virtue of his age.  "We're supposed to ...  uh ...  talk about things
... I guess.  You talk differently in a group than you do when you're alone
with someone."

   "True," said Tiffany.  She looked at Chuck.  "Let's go talk." She
started toward the door, not looking back.  She was already trying to take
the lead in this ...  relationship.  Chuck followed her, looking somehow
happy.

   =================================

   Chuck was shy, off the field, and out of his element, which was the
testosterone-drenched life of young warriors.  In that element, he knew how
to act, what to say, how to use all that testosterone to make things
happen. He did all right in the class room, because he had a lesson plan to
guide him, and talking to kids was easy because they had so little life
experience.  Everything was new and interesting to them, if they weren't
already jaded.  He did all right in the teacher's lounge, where the chat
was semi-formal and usually not very personal.  Even in the group, the
night before, he'd felt at ease, even though the conversation DID get into
more personal things.  He'd had nothing to lose then.  He was just with a
bunch of co-workers, where nobody should take anything that was said too
seriously.  That the women had taken offense at the men's comments had been
expected, but then ...  who cared, really?  At that time, they were all
only here for a seminar on teaching sex ed, and then they'd all go back
home.

   It was when he was alone with a woman that he clammed up and felt
suddenly the same age as the football players he coached.  The women he'd
dated, thus far, hadn't been teachers.  He'd been set up with them by
teacher friends.  Most of them were in business, struggling to climb this
or that corporate ladder, and they took life seriously.  They'd been
interested in him, initially because of the genetic component.  He was fit,
healthy and in a good job.  He'd been OK in bed, as far as those women were
concerned, until he got kinky.  Serious women aren't interested in putting
their hair in dog ears, or a pony tail, and jumping around naked, yelling
"Go Team!"

   Chuck knew his cheerleader fantasy was a problem, but it was the only
fantasy he had.  Had he been able to indulge that fantasy a few times, he
might have gone on to seek something deeper with those women, and find that
they were interesting in their own right.  He knew that.  He wasn't stupid.
He was just testosterone-filled, like his young warriors.  He couldn't get
past that chemical barrier.

   The other thing was that now, it wasn't just a sex ed seminar any more.
He wasn't quite sure WHAT it was, but it seemed a lot more serious.  He was
teamed up with this gorgeous former cheerleader, and, if nothing else, his
masculine pride was on the line.

   That made him nervous.

   He decided to proceed very carefully.  He would master the testosterone.
All they were going to do was talk, but he needed the practice, and he
wanted to talk with this woman more than he'd wanted to talk to a woman in
a long time.

   He knew it was the cheerleader thing, but this time, he was going to
beat it.

   =================================

   Tiffany kept walking, as if she had a destination in mind.  She did.  It
was the bar, which was sparsely populated that early in the afternoon.  She
chose a booth, so she could sit across the table from Chuck.

   Tiffany had seen the way Chuck looked at her, in her new bikini, as she
and Roberta had dragged Jeff to the hot tub, the night before.  All three
men in the hot tub had, in their minds, stripped her bare of her new suit.
She was used to that, even if she thought that was shallow.  Bob's
conversation about sex being quite naturally the first thing men thought
about had, in a strange way, opened her eyes.  She had known that was the
first thing men thought about, but now there was a logical explanation for
it.  That made a difference, somehow.  Her change in attitude was bolstered
by the fact that she was quite aware that she checked out every man she
met, making that snap judgment that Bob had described so well.  In fact,
she was aware she had just done that, choosing Chuck, over the others.  She
was a little amazed at how quickly she had discounted Roger.  He seemed
very nice, what little she had seen of him.  But her genetic mind had said
he was too old.  She found it fascinating that she had just experienced
what Bob was talking about, and that this was only the first time she'd
realized what she was doing.

   All in all, Tiffany Jones, who had a scholarly mind, and appreciated
information that made sense, was willing to change her attitude, even if
only a little, based on that new information she had been given.  While she
had, in the past, automatically turned up her nose at men who were obvious
about ogling her, she now looked a little deeper before making that snap
judgment that classified them as "jerks".

   And, when it came to Chuck, he wasn't pushy, or crude, not counting his
assessment of her breasts at the bar beside the pool.  Even that had been
more in the atmosphere of teasing her.  Her outrage had been manufactured,
rather than seriously felt.  And he'd even apologized.  That, in her book,
made him a lot less of a "jerk" than she might have otherwise labeled him.

   Besides ...  he was cute.

   She sat down and waited for him to take a seat across from her.  By the
time he'd done so, the waitress was at the table.  She ordered a
screwdriver.

   "Um ...  beer," said Chuck, across from her.  He looked everywhere but
at Tiffany.

   "Well," said Tiffany, not saying anything else.

   Chuck looked at her, couldn't help but drop his gaze to her breasts, and
then looked away quickly.

   "Stand up!" she said suddenly.  He didn't ask questions.  He just slid
back out and stood up.  Her eyes slithered down his body to fix on his
groin.  He had the overwhelming urge to cover his zipper with his hands,
but just slid back into the booth instead.

   "Now you know what it feels like," she said calmly.

   He was saved from having to say anything by the waitress, bringing them
their drinks.  He took a gulp of his, while she sipped daintily from the
straw in hers.

   "It looks different now than it did last night, in the hot tub,"
commented Tiffany, casually.

   He examined the label on his bottle of beer.

   "Cat got your tongue?" she asked.

   He squirmed in his seat, and finally took another gulp of beer.  The
bottle was half empty, now.  He was feeling more like twelve or thirteen,
rather than the seventeen he'd been feeling only a few moments ago.

   "Oh, come on," said Tiffany.  She took another dainty sip.  "If you can
talk about my breasts, surely I can talk about your penis."

   He darted a look around, to see who else might have been able to hear
her comment.

   "You know," she said calmly, "we're never going to get anywhere if you
don't start talking."

   "I can't," he blurted.  "I mean ...  Oh, I don't know!  This probably
wasn't a good idea!"

   "What's not a good idea?" she asked.

   "Us," he said, addressing his beer bottle.  "Here ...  together."

   "Why in the world not?" she asked.  "You like looking at my breasts, and
I like looking at your penis.  That's a start, at least according to Bob."

   Her did look up now, and his eyes locked on her face.  He was evaluating
whether or not she was just playing with him.  He'd taken out a girl back
in High School who had done that ...  teased him mercilessly, and on
purpose, with no intent whatsoever of helping him have a good time.  He'd
never asked her out again, and she'd made fun of him to all her friends. 
It had re-enforced his shyness.

   But he didn't see the sneer he expected to see on Tiffany's face.  He
did see a twinkle in her eye, and the corners of her mouth might be raised
just a smidgen, but the look on her face was more of someone who had told a
joke, and expected him to laugh ...  with her.

   Tiffany was almost shocked at the intensity of the look on his face
when, at last, he looked at HER, and not just her breasts.  He was acting
so differently from the night before.  Last night he'd been easy and
confident in his manner.  She'd expected him to spar with her ...  to fight
back ...  perhaps opening the door for serious conversation, once they
worked through the preliminaries of the game.

   Now, though, he was acting like a one of her male students, who, when
she had him stay after class to correct his behavior, had stammered and
stuttered, looking everywhere but at her.  She'd finally figured out that
he had a crush on her, and that his behavior was an attempt to get her
attention.  She'd simply told him what she expected of him in the future,
and sent him on his way.  It had worked better than she had believed it
would work.

   Now, the look on Chuck's face was the same earnest, almost pleading
look, and she realized suddenly he was shy.

   "Um ..." she said.  "How about let's just start over.  Why don't you
tell me about this cheerleader who broke your heart?"

   Chuck was dumbfounded.  She wasn't playing with him.  That made him
wonder what she HAD been doing.  But now she'd asked him a question.  He
answered without really thinking about it.

   "It's not that she broke my heart," he said.  "She just ignored me."

   He looked at his beer, and then back up.  She seemed to be waiting for
more.

   "My best friend asked her out and they started going steady, so I was
around her a lot.  I didn't have a girlfriend, and I thought she was the
best looking woman on the planet.  She'd kiss Frank and rub on him.  Frank
said they were doing it, and that I was cramping his style.  It kind of
drove us apart."

   "Everybody thinks cheerleaders have round heels, and will fall on their
backs for any guy they go out with," said Tiffany.  She took another sip.

   "That's the funny part," said Chuck.  "I didn't believe him.  I couldn't
believe she'd be like that.  I think I put her on a pedestal.  When they
broke up, I thought about asking her out, but then, by the time I got my
courage up, she was already going with another guy.  She ended up pregnant.
That's what broke my heart."

   "It broke your heart that she got pregnant ...  or that it wasn't you
who got her that way?" asked Tiffany.

   Chuck looked horrified.  "I'd have never wanted to do THAT to her!  I
wanted her to fall in love with me, and marry me!"

   "And you were how old?" asked Tiffany.

   "Seventeen," said Chuck, looking at his bottle.  It was suddenly missing
about half the label, and the pieces were on the table at the base of the
bottle.  He realized he'd been picking at it while he talked.  "I know it
was stupid." He looked up "But it was how I felt."

   "You want to know a secret?" asked Tiffany.

   He looked wary, but said "Sure."

   "There are two kinds of girls who join the squad.  There are the girls
who really want to cheer on the team.  Pep is as real to them as food. 
They're just normal, every-day girls, who want to be part of the team."

   "That's what I was sure she was all about," said Chuck, nodding.

   "Then there are the girls who do it for popularity purposes," said
Tiffany.  "They aren't there for the team.  They could care less about the
team.  They're the ones with round heels, looking to land the most popular
guy, so they'll be tied to him.  They'll do anything to be more popular."
She sipped.  "They give us a bad name."

   "Don't tell me she was like that," moaned Chuck.

   "I have no idea," said Tiffany.  "The thing that complicates things is
that the peppy girls are normal girls, who have normal urges.  I thought
about having sex a dozen times while I was a cheerleader, but I didn't. 
I'm sure, though, that the right guy could have gotten in my panties.  I
just never ran into him until I was in college."

   "So ...  where is he now?" asked Chuck.

   "Still in college, going with some other girl," she said.  "He wanted to
stay there for his Masters, and I wanted to start teaching.  We grew
apart."

   "That's too bad," said Chuck.

   "Not really," said Tiffany.

   He leaned forward.  "Yes it is!  If he was so special that he ...  well,
you know ...  then it should have lasted!"

   "If you're trying to tell me I chose the wrong guy to give my virginity
to, I'm way ahead of you," said Tiffany, her voice disgruntled.

   "No, that's not what I meant," said Chuck.  "I meant that people just
don't seem to be willing to weather the tough spots these days.  At the
first bump in the road, they bail out."

   "I tried to keep it going for most of a year," said Tiffany, defending
herself.

   "I'm not talking about you," he said agitatedly.  "I'm just talking
about ...  people in general.  Look at this group.  We're all intelligent
people.  We care about the world, or we wouldn't be teaching.  Yet, not one
of us is in a successful long term relationship.  Don't you think that says
something about the world?"

   Tiffany blinked.  He'd gone from boasting womanizer, to shy boy, to
serious thinker, all in the space of a day.  There was obviously a lot more
to him than she'd imagined.

   "You said this ...  cheerleader thing had caused problems," she said. 
"What did you mean?"

   He flashed back to shy boy, and she marveled at how he could wear his
heart on his sleeve one minute, and be overwhelmed with insecurity the
next. She waited, remaining silent, to make him go on.

   "I ...  I guess I can't get her out of my mind or something," he said.
"When it comes to a certain point in all my relationships I sort of want
the girl I'm with to ...  act like ...  a cheerleader, I guess."

   "You want to role play?" asked Tiffany, surprised.  That part of Bob's
seminar had made a lot of sense to her too.  She knew couples that played
little games with each other, and they seemed quite happy.  She had thought
them a little odd, before now, but that was changing too, in her mind.

   "So you want to put some variety in things," she said delicately,
"before they get boring."

   "That's a nice way to put it," he acknowledged.  "But they never see it
that way."

   "And then you met me, and thought maybe I might react differently than
those women?" Tiffany's face was unreadable.

   Chuck flushed, but held up his hand.  "No, that's not what I thought."

   "Yes it is, Chuck," said Tiffany.  "Didn't Bob say we were supposed to
be honest?  Aren't we supposed to communicate freely?"

   "Well sure," he said.  "But not about THAT!"

   "Why not?" she asked.

   "I don't want you to storm off in anger just like those others," he
explained.

   "But you're not being honest with me, Chuck," she said patiently.  "That
means a lot more to me than some silly fantasy."

   "See?" he moaned.  "Even you think it's a silly fantasy!"

   She leaned back.  "OK, maybe that was a bad choice of words.  You're not
the first man to fantasize about me as a cheerleader.  I know about that,
even if I'm not sure I understand it.  How would you feel if some woman
came up to you and rubbed up against you and said this?" She made her voice
very high and very young.  "Oh, Chucky, I've always had this dream about
being fucked half to death by a big, strong football coach!"

   The change in her behavior was so sudden and so strange that it made
Chuck laugh.

   "First off, that's never happened, and probably never will." He smiled.
"But if it did, I'd probably say something like 'I'm your man, baby!', and
think I was the luckiest guy in the world."

   "No you wouldn't," said Tiffany, her voice back to normal.  "You'd blush
and stammer and probably try to go hide somewhere."

   His smile was wry, now.  "Yeah, you're probably right." Then he went on.
"But that's different, anyway.  I'm a man, and men don't get propositioned
like that.  Women do, and I'm sure they look at it from a different point
of view."

   "Not as different as you might think," said Tiffany.  "We want a man to
want us for who we are, not what costume we happen to be wearing.  I'm
proud of my breasts, but I don't want a man to think that breasts is all
that I am.  You're probably proud of your penis too, but I'm sure you don't
want that to be the only thing a woman pays attention to."

   She waited for him to confirm her comment.

   He didn't.

   "It's still not the same thing.  Women get hit on all the time, but it's
not that way for men.  And men would just naturally react differently. 
We're made to want sex, and, sad to say, just about wherever we can get
it."

   "I'll show you my breasts, if you'll show me your penis," said Tiffany
suddenly.

   Chuck assumed she was messing with him.  "That's crazy.  You don't mean
that."

   "If men are so genetically horny they'll take anything they can get,"
said Tiffany, "then it doesn't matter if it's crazy.  Come on, stud ... 
show me your dick.  You know you want to."

   "No I don't," he said, getting nervous again.

   "But don't you want to see these?" she asked sweetly, cupping her
breasts.  She lifted each one and bounced it.

   "Knock it off, Tiffany," he moaned.  "That's not who you are.  I may
have just met you, but I know that's not who you are."

   Tiffany started unbuttoning her blouse.

   "You don't know me at all.  Come on ...  admit it ...  you want to see
them." She continued unbuttoning her blouse and started letting it spread
apart.  She was wearing a tan colored bra, that showed a lot of very
impressive cleavage.

   Chuck looked around.  "Stop it!" he hissed.  "You're embarrassing us
both!"

   Her hands paused, but didn't pull her blouse together.

   "You just proved my point," she said.  "Sex is NOT all you care about.
You WON'T take anything you can get.  You DO care what a woman is like."

   "Will you please do up your blouse," he moaned.  His eyes darted to her
chest, and then around to see who might be able to see what she was doing.

   "If you promise me to show me your dick ...  later ...  I'll button my
blouse."

   "Tiffaneeeeee," moaned Chuck.

   She undid the next to last button.

   "OK, OK!" he yelped.  "Whatever you say!  Just button your blouse!"

   She did, efficiently and quickly.  Then she smiled at him.

   "Look at what just happened.  I hit on you, and you reacted just like
most women would.  You were uncomfortable, and you agreed to something you
wouldn't normally agree to, just to get out of the situation."

   He blinked.  She was right.  He HAD just promised to show her his penis,
just to get her to behave.  Was that what men did to women?

   "You're not going to hold me to that promise ...  are you?" he asked
softly.

   "Maybe," she said, smiling brilliantly.  "You're a much better class of
man than you think you are.  I'll admit I'm attracted to you, since we're
being honest here.  We ARE being honest from now on ...  right?"

   "I guess so," he groaned.  "I thought I was being honest in the first
place.  How am I supposed to know what's honest and what's not?"

   "Just say what's on your mind." she said, taking another sip of her
screwdriver.

   "What's on your mind right now?" he asked, turning the tables.

   "Your penis," she said calmly.

   ================================================

   Chapter Six: Roberta and Jeff

   When Tiffany walked out, dragging Chuck by an invisible leash, Jeff
reacted like most men would have reacted.  He tried to make sure the same
thing didn't happen to him.

   He turned to Roberta.

   "What do you think?" he asked.  "I kind of agree with Bob.  You and I
might have some things in common to talk about."

   "I don't know what to do," said Roberta, looking around blankly.  "I
never expected anything like this to happen."

   "You want to go swimming?" he asked.

   "We're supposed to talk, aren't we?" she responded.

   "We can talk standing in cool water," he said.

   "Are you sure it would be OK?" she asked.

   "Bob called recess," he said, smiling.  "You play at recess ...  and
talk."

   Roberta reacted to the word "play" much differently than Jeff had meant
it.  She'd tried that same exact word with her husband one night, when he
was hunched over the computer, researching a company's stock value.

   "Come on, baby," she said, standing behind him and running her hands
down onto his chest.  "You've been in school long enough .  It's time for
recess ...  time to play."

   "In a minute," he'd said, ignoring her hands.  "You go get ready and
I'll be there in a minute."

   He'd never shown up.  At least not until she'd already fallen asleep,
and then he didn't wake her.

   She remembered Jeff's appearance from the night before.  He looked good
in his swim suit, even with the bulge that Tiffany had caused.  He had a
broad chest, well muscled, and good thighs.  He obviously worked out.  How
could any woman just leave him?

   "OK," she said.  "I'll meet you at the pool in ten minutes."

   ===================================

   The sun felt good on her shoulders and back as she approached the pool.
Jeff was already in it, swimming laps.  She watched the sun flash off his
shoulders as they lifted and twisted, alternating back and forth in a
smooth rhythm.  She felt guilty for liking to look at him.

   She walked down the steps of the shallow end, sinking into the cool
water.  He kept swimming, not knowing she was there.  He didn't lift his
face out of the water like she did when she swam.  He kept his face down
for two strokes, and then turned his head to the side, just far enough that
she could hear him take in a breath.  He looked like he could go on for
hours.  When he got to the end of the pool, his head ducked and his body
rolled in a tight somersault before his feet hit the end of the pool and
shot him off in a strong, streamlined push, his arms out ahead of him.  He
looked like some sea creature, totally at home in the water.

   He did four more circuits before he stopped, in the shallow end, and
stood up, looking around.

   "There you are," he said, across the pool.

   She looked at his wet chest, and felt a tingle in her belly.  She
couldn't believe she was having these feelings about a complete stranger.
She felt guilty about that too.

   "You do that very well," she said.

   "Swim team in High School," he said, shrugging.  "It works off a lot of
energy."

   "You'll have to teach me how to do that then," she said, before the
thought about it.

   "You have a lot of frustration to work off?" he asked.

   "I guess I do," she admitted.

   "It's normal," he said.  "We all have frustration to deal with."

   "I guess so," she said.  "I never thought about it that way.  I just try
to get through each day."

   "So," he said.  "What do you want to talk about?"

   "I have no idea," she said.  "Like I said, I didn't come here planning
on talking about this."

   "What this?" he asked.

   "You know ...  sexual feelings."

   "Like Bob said, that's what we'll be talking to our students about," he
said.  "I think it's a good idea."

   "I'm not so sure about that," said Roberta, thinking about how she'd
been looking at him." Her eyes went to his chest.  He'd been swimming hard,
but wasn't breathing hard.

   Jeff looked at her, question in his gaze.

   "It's just that I keep my feelings all bottled up," she said.  "It's
easier to deal with things if I don't think about them too much."

   "You said something about your husband not paying attention to you," he
said.  "How can things get better if you don't deal with that?"

   Jeff felt hypocritical, suddenly.  He hadn't dealt with Melanie.  He
should have gone and gotten her, and dragged her back to their home.  He'd
never been quite able to figure out why he hadn't done that.  He realized
it was easier, in a way, to ignore her childishness, than deal with it.

   "I don't know what to do about it," said Roberta.

   "I confess, that I understand that all too well," he said.

   "Are you having problems with your wife?" she asked.

   He told her the situation.

   "That's terrible!" she gasped.  "That's even worse than what Phillip is
doing to me!"

   "What I feel bad about is that I'm not man enough to keep her at home,"
he said.

   "That's nonsense," said Roberta.  "She's just stupid and selfish."

   He grinned.  "OK, I'm not man enough to overcome stupidity and
selfishness."

   "You're man enough to be interesting to me, and I'm married," she
blurted.  She turned around instantly, facing away from him, embarrassed
that she'd let that out.

   "Thanks," he said softly.  "I think you're pretty interesting too."

   She turned back to face him, anguish twisting her features.  "But that's
the point!  We're not SUPPOSED to be interested in each other.  We're
MARRIED!"

   "Calm down," said Jeff.  "Remember what Bob said.  It's a life-long
process, and it's natural.  That doesn't mean we have to do anything about
it."

   "I feel guilty for wanting to do something about it," she said, again
before she thought.  She brought her hands up to cover her flaming face. 
"I can't believe I said that," she moaned.

   "Hey, look," he said brightly.  "It's also natural for both of us to be
a little frustrated sexually.  OK, it's a problem, but surely we can deal
with it.  We're both adults.  Maybe we can talk about it, and figure out
ways to get our spouses interested in us again."

   "I can't even look you in the eye after what I just said," she moaned
into her hands.  "At least you aren't lusting after me."

   "I didn't say that," he said softly.  "I just said we don't have to DO
anything about that."

   Roberta was rocked to her wet heels by his comment.  She felt her
nipples stiffen even more, painfully.  His rather bland admission that he
found her sexually attractive twanged some string in her that was very
taut.

   "I have to go," she whined.

   "Don't do it in the pool," he joked.  "At least go to your room to do
that."

   His abrupt foolishness didn't have quite the effect he'd intended.  He'd
intended to say something to lessen the tension.  But his goofy response
only inflamed Roberta even more.  He was kind.  He cared how she felt.  It
was obvious in his light-hearted response.  She realized, in that moment,
that she was out of control, and the panic of that thought made her take
her hands away from her face and look at him again.

   "I have ...  to go," she said, her voice trembling.  "I'm about to fall
apart."

   "I'll walk you to your room," he said calmly.

   He got out, jumping from the floor of the pool to the deck in one
graceful leap.  He held his hands out to her, and she took them
automatically.  He pulled, and she suddenly felt like she was flying.  For
a split second, the front of his swim suit was right in front of her face.
The bulge there caused something to snap inside her, and she tried to run,
pulling one hand from his.  Quite suddenly they were both dashing toward
her room.  Her feet felt the heat of the pavement, and her brain felt his
hand, still in hers.  Her key was on the cord around her neck, and she
reached for it.  She was in such a hurry that she just bent over to work
the lock, trying to get away from him, and behind the safety of her door,
where she'd be alone, and could take a breath.

   The door opened and she lunged forward.

   But, when she turned to slam the door, she wasn't alone.  He was inside,
and he was closing the door.

   "Nooooo," she wailed.

   "Take it easy," he said soothingly.

   "You don't understaaaand," she moaned.

   Then, suddenly, she was pressed against him, her hungry lips glued to
his, hungrily, her hands pulling him against her as their wet bodies slid
against each other.

   =================================================

   Chapter Seven: Crystal and Woody

   After Tiffany and Chuck left, followed by Roberta and Jeff, Crystal gave
a sigh and turned to Woody.

   "You wanted to talk to me.  I guess you get your chance."

   "Don't you think we ought to at least ask them?" commented Woody,
gesturing in the direction of Jane and Roger, who were standing, and just
looking at each other.

   "No," said Jane.  "It's OK."

   "Well, then," said Woody, smiling brightly.  "Do you want to stop by
your room and get your book?"

   "That wasn't necessary," said Crystal, frowning.

   "I know, and I apologize," said Woody, his smile fading.  "I really
would like to talk to you."

   "Come on," said Crystal, walking toward the door.  Woody grinned wryly.
As different as Crystal and Tiffany were, they both took charge, exhibiting
that no-nonsense attitude that strong women have.  It didn't bother him,
really.  Her defenses were up almost all the time.  That much was obvious.
She'd either let him in, or not.  In one sense, it didn't matter to him. 
Mandy had taught him to take things slowly ...  to get to know someone
better, before accelerating the relationship.  He knew he was "on the
prowl", in the sense that he was looking for the right woman, but he also
knew that pushing things could result in a bad outcome.  He'd always been
sure that, if he'd been more patient with Mandy, he'd have won her over.

   When they got in the hallway, Crystal stopped.

   "Where do we go?" she asked.

   "Anywhere is fine with me," he said.

   "You want to just walk?" she asked.

   "Walking is good."

   They went outside and she began striding along, her gait purposeful.  It
was obvious to Woody that, to keep up with her, he'd have to trot.  Those
long legs of hers covered a lot of distance quickly.  While he liked to
run, he wasn't willing to trot, just to keep up with her.

   "Hey," he said.

   She looked over her shoulder.

   "I'm not going to run to keep up with you," he said.

   "Oh," she said, frowning.  "Sorry."

   "We don't actually have to talk, if it's going to be difficult for you,"
he said.  "We came to the wrong seminar, by mistake, and there's no
requirement that we actually participate."

   She looked confused, and then said "Why do you want to talk to me?"

   "I like you," he said simply.

   "You don't even know me," she said.

   "OK ...  so far, I like you." He grinned.

   "Why?" she insisted.

   "Come on," he said, throwing a hand up in the air.  "I don't know
whether all this stuff Bob is spouting is true or not, but you're
interesting, and different from any other woman I've ever met - so far,
anyway.  What's the harm in just talking?"

   "What you're saying is I'm tall," she said.  "I'm different because I'm
tall."

   "Bullshit," he said.  "You're the one hung up about your height.  When I
look at you I see a good looking woman, carrying around a lot of baggage.
I've seen you smile once, since I met you, and you have a great smile.  You
should get rid of the baggage and smile a lot more."

   "We're not a good match, physically," she said.

   "In the first place," he said patiently, there is no 'we' yet.  I don't
know if there will ever be a 'we' or not, but I also know we'll never know
if we don't get to know each other.  In the second place, just because
we're assigned to talk, and you got stuck with me, that doesn't mean there
has to be a 'we' at all.  In the third place, I am quite sure that, if the
circumstances were right, it wouldn't matter that I'm shorter than you.  I
have the equipment, and you have the equipment, and I bet it fits."

   "You're very direct," said Crystal, feeling a whole raft of emotions she
couldn't quite identify.

   "Didn't Bob say that honesty was important?"

   "I didn't get 'stuck' with you," she said.

   "Why didn't you pick one of the other men?" he asked.

   "They were already taken.  Anybody could see that," she complained.

   "So I was all that was left ...  but you don't feel that you got stuck
with me?"

   She stared at him for a long time before answering.  "OK, I would have
chosen you anyway.  There.  Are you happy now?"

   "I always try to be happy," he said, grinning.  "You just made it a lot
easier, that's all."

   "I don't understand," she said.  "Why would you want to be with me?"

   "I thought we already got past that," he said.  "Are you fishing for
compliments, or just trying to get me to admit I have the hots for you?"

   Crystal felt her emotions notch up.  She felt like going for a five mile
run, but it wasn't good for her joints.  He was so direct ...  didn't beat
around the bush.  Was he actually just being truthful?  She wasn't used to
a man who said what was actually on his mind.  She thought about his
repeated attempts to talk to her on the plane, and how she'd assumed he was
just stubbornly trying to wear her down ...  to get what he could.  Yet,
just a moment ago, he'd been willing to let her go back to her room, or
whatever, and not talk to him at all.  She'd never met a man quite like
him. He was different.

   When she realized she had classified him as "different", exactly the
same thing he had called her, the humor of the situation provided the
emotional outlet she needed.

   She laughed.

   She laughed so hard she couldn't stop, and had to actually sit down on
the ground to keep from getting faint.  He stood there, watching her, a
puzzled look on his face.  He didn't say anything and, like most people do
when someone is laughing, he began to smile with her, even though he didn't
know what was funny.

   Finally she wound down.  She felt much better, even though she felt
foolish, sitting on the ground.  She started to get up, and he stuck out a
hand.

   "I'm heavier than I look," she said, smiling.

   He held out both hands.  "That's the smile I was talking about."

   She grabbed them and was surprised at the strength in his arms as he
lifted her.  Her legs helped and her feet almost left the ground.

   He didn't ask what had been so funny.  For a man who liked to talk so
much, he wasn't saying a lot.

   "It's been a long time since I wanted to trust a man," she said finally.
"You seem like the first man I've met in a long time who I could trust."

   "Big mistake," he said, letting her hands go.  "After all, I have the
hots for you."

   She arched an eyebrow.  "You had the hots for Tiffany, in the hot tub,
last night."

   "Did not," he said firmly.

   "Did so," she argued.

   "Did not!"

   "You looked at her breasts, just like all the others," she insisted.

   To her amazement, he leaned forward, putting his face inches from her
chest.

   "Yours are just as good," he said, like he was talking to her breasts.
"Maybe even better.  Your suit covered more of yours.  I couldn't be sure
unless I saw more of them."

   "Fat chance," she said, smiling when he leaned back, and looked at her
face.  "I've seen you looking at me.  You don't look at my breasts."

   "Only because I'm trying to be polite," he said.  "I know a woman
doesn't like it when a man stares at her body."

   "You're not being very polite now," she said lightly.

   "I'm going for broke," he said, tossing a hand in the air.  "I have the
hots for you.  You could dump me any minute."

   "I thought there was no 'we'," she said, still smiling.

   "The world changes constantly," he said.  "And guys are ever hopeful."

   "You're not REALLY interested in sex," she said, her smile fading.  "Not
with me, anyway."

   "You couldn't be more wrong if you said the sun wasn't going to set
tonight," he said, seriously.  "But ...  not until I get to know you a LOT
better."

   "You're a strange man, Woody Buckholtz."

   He grinned brightly.  "You remembered my last name!"

   "Do you remember mine?" she asked slyly.

   "Too easy," he scoffed.  "Crystal Smith, seat 15-f, formerly, and
inaccurately assumed to be a traveling professional basketball player. 
Divorced - and still in pain because of it - interesting, if a bit hostile,
in good physical shape, with none of the typical problems a tall woman has.
Reads romance novels, peeking ahead to see what happens.  Teacher, who is
embarrassed by her height, which is one of her major assets, and, a dancer,
I hope."

   "Dancer?" she smiled, amazed at his review of her.

   "Ballroom dancing is my passion," he said, bowing.  "May I have the next
dance?"

   "Your face would be in those breasts you seem to be so enamored with,"
she said, smiling.

   "Why do you think ballroom dancing is my passion?" he asked, shrugging.

   She looked at him thoughtfully.  He really WAS different ...  and
interesting.

   "Maybe we can talk after all," she said.

   "Talk first ...  dance later," he said nodding his head.  "Good plan. 
Keeps the guy with the hots for you at a safe distance.  Very astute of
you."

   "Can you be serious?" she asked.

   His smile vanished.  "I can be very serious," he said, his voice full of
some emotion.  "Sometimes I am too serious."

   She heard something in his voice that alerted her to the fact that this
needed to be investigated.  She was serious about things too.  She felt
hope tug at her heart, ever so gently, at the thought that he might be
serious about the same things she was.  She'd given up that hope, a long
time ago.  It felt dangerous as it reappeared.

   "Talk first," she agreed.  "Dancing ...  maybe."

   "Hope springs eternal," he said, lifting his hand to lead the way.

   ===============================================

   Chapter Eight: Jane and Roger

   The best way to describe the emotional states of both Jane and Roger is
to use the word "rattled".  Both had watched as potential partners had
paired up and left the room.  Both had yearned to be partnered with each
other, on the one hand.  On the other, both were terrified that they would
end up together.  Roger felt almost sick at his stomach, because he knew
that spending time with this beautiful young woman would result in feelings
he didn't know how to deal with.  Jane felt exactly the same way.

   When, at last, they were alone, neither looked at the other with more
than quick glances.

   "Well," said Roger, finally.

   "Yes." Jane's voice was weak.

   "I guess we kind of got paired up ...  again," said Roger, remembering
how she looked in her yellow bikini.

   "Yes." Her voice wasn't any stronger.

   "If you don't want to be with me, I'll understand," said Roger
painfully.

   "No!" she blurted, and then blushed.  "I mean ...  it's fine."

   Now he did look at her.  "Why is this so hard?" he asked.

   "I don't know," she said softly.

   "There has to be a reason," he said.  "We're both adults.  We both
teach. This should be easy."

   "I know," she agreed.  "But it's not."

   "Why?" he asked.

   "I don't KNOW!" she barked, looking uncomfortable.

   "I think I do," he said.

   She turned to look at him.  The question in her eyes was obvious.

   Roger felt like the world was about to tear apart as he decided to say
what was on his mind.  Wasn't that what Bob had said to do?  She might run
screaming from the room, but maybe that wouldn't be so terrible.  At least
it would be over, and this tension would break.  He took a deep breath.

   "I think we're attracted to each other," he said softly.

   The look on her face was priceless.  First there was shock, followed
closely by a look of surprise, and then she slumped, looked for a chair and
sat down heavily.

   Roger stood there, waiting.  He couldn't tell how she felt.  She hadn't
run screaming from the room, but that didn't mean she agreed with him.

   Now it was Jane's world that felt like something must explode any
second, and fly into pieces that would wreck everything.  How could she
admit to him that he fueled her fantasy?  DID he fuel her fantasy?  She
knew she was attracted to him.  His calm announcement of that fact had
surprised her, but only because he appeared to know it.  She HAD almost
thrown herself at him, in the sauna, but he had just admitted that he was
attracted to her too!  She had no idea what to do or say.  He was just
standing there, waiting for her to do something.  She felt panic in her
belly.  If she just told him about her father, maybe he'd be horrified and
leave.  The thought of that tore at her innards ...  but SOMETHING had to
happen or she'd go stark, raving mad!

   His voice startled her so much that she jumped when he said: "Maybe we
could talk about that?"

   She looked up at him, and her eyes went to the gray wings on the side of
his head.  He was attracted to her.  She felt her body almost bulge with
the tension.  When they talked, he'd lose that attraction.  That would be
best.  When her study partner had taken her, she'd felt this same bulge in
her body, a yearning to fly apart and become something new.  When he'd
spurted in her belly, the orgasm she'd had had felt like that ...  like she
was flying into pieces that would assemble to make a new woman when they
drifted back together.  She somehow knew that she could reach the same
place with Roger, but that wasn't allowed ...  couldn't be.  She had to
tell him.  She had to make him hate her.  Only then could she resist these
feelings.

   "Yes," she said, her voice raspy.  "Yes.  We have to talk about that."

   ================================

   Once they had decided to talk about their attraction to each other, the
next step was to decide where to do that.  Both thought of their rooms, and
both discarded that idea for the same reason - there was a bed in the room.
It wasn't that either one thought anything was actually going to happen
between them.  It was just that the bed would make them each think of what
they WANTED to happen between them.  And, of course, neither yet knew that
both of them was thinking about the very same thing.

   Such is the situation when communication has not yet taken place.

   It was natural for Roger to think of something they'd already done,
which might seem more comfortable.

   "In the sauna?" he asked.

   Jane looked at him and remembered how she'd felt the last time they were
in the sauna.

   "No," she said.  She realized that sounded like she was rejecting his
idea out-of-hand.  "Somebody might come in," she added, trying to undo what
she thought she'd just done.

   "True," he said.  The fact that she didn't want to be disturbed made
something tingle inside him.

   "Not one of our rooms," he said, voicing his previous thought.

   "No," she agreed.  She was frustrated that all she was giving him was
negatives.  "How did this happen?" she asked, her frustration driving her
to say ...  something ...  anything at all.

   "According to Bob, it's a natural phenomenon," said Roger, also saying
something just to be saying ...  something.  "I have to admit, though, that
I find it somewhat astonishing."

   Jane's first thought was that he was astonished that he could be
attracted to her, something she could agree with.  She was just a mousy
girl from the hills.  He was a sophisticated older man.  He'd been married
to the love of his life.  He still missed her.  How could he find any
attraction for her?

   "We could just stay here," suggested Roger.  "It's quiet, and nobody
will bother us."

   Jane glanced at him.  She just wanted it to be over.

   "I'm in love with my father," she blurted, unable to keep it inside any
longer.

   "Really?" said Roger, unable to process the information because it was
so unexpected.

   "I think that's why I'm attracted to you," she moaned.  "You remind me
of him."

   "Really?" He was still having trouble adjusting to the fact that they
were suddenly talking about something that was obviously very important to
her.

   "I'm perverted," she said, putting her face into her hands.

   Roger looked at the woman he was so interested in.  He hadn't had time
to adjust to her startling statement, and couldn't think of her as being
perverted at all.  That might come in the future, but he couldn't think of
her that way right now.  His own kink flooded his mind.

   "Don't feel bad," he heard himself say.  "I have a thing for young
girls. You're no more perverted than I am."

   Her head snapped up.  There were tears in her eyes.

   "But I'm not that young," she said.

   "I know that, but your appearance ..." He trailed off.  "You're actions
are very ...  innocent," he added uncomfortably.

   "I'd think you'd be attracted to Lori," she said, unable to grapple with
his admission.

   "Not that young," he said.  "It's hard to explain."

   "That's what you were talking about before," she said.  "When you said
women your own age didn't appeal to you."

   "Yes," he admitted.

   "That's different," she said.  "You're just doing that Bob said all men
do ...  looking for a childbearing woman.  I think about having sex with my
own father."

   "Did he ever ...?" Roger's question was obvious.

   Her laugh was part scorn and part explosive release of tension.

   "No way!  He's a Deacon in the church.  He'd never speak to me again if
he ever found out I thought about him that way.  He'd disown me.  I could
never go back home, ever again."

   "So that's why you don't want to marry ..." Roger couldn't remember her
fiancé's name.

   "Jed," she finished for him, and then went on.  "No ...  Maybe.  I don't
know for sure.  I'm not really attracted to Jed.  He's nice, and sweet, but
he's not ..."

   "Your father?" asked Roger.

   "No, it's not even that, really," she said, looking around.  "I know I
could never do anything with my father.  But whenever I fantasize, his face
pops into my head.  I can't help it.  I saw him making love to my mother
one time, and ever since then ..." She shook her head.  "I don't want to be
just a farmer's wife," she said.  "I love teaching, but if I keep teaching,
I have to give up everything back home.  They don't understand.  I lose, no
matter what I do."

   "Couldn't you teach back there?" asked Roger.

   "You don't understand," she moaned.  "They ...  the men ...  they have
old fashioned ideas about a woman's role.  Once they decide what that role
should be, it's just decided, as far as they're concerned.  The woman
doesn't have any say in the matter, really."

   "That's too bad," said Roger sadly.  "You deserve to be happy."

   "Why?" she asked looking at him.  "There are lots of people who aren't
happy.  They do what they have to do to get by, and live with things the
way they are."

   "True," he said, "but they don't really have to.  I know people settle
for things, but that doesn't make it right.  You're bright, intelligent,
pretty ...  why should you have to settle for somebody else's dream?"

   "They're my family!" she moaned.

   "You just said that you lose, no matter what you do," said Roger
patiently.  "That means you'll be unhappy, regardless.  Now, just imagine
for a moment, that you decide what YOU want to do.  You go after that, and
something positive comes into your life.  Yes, you lose something back
home, if they can't adjust to what you decided, but at least you have
something positive in your life ...  some happiness.  You don't have to
make THEM happy, at the expense of all your own happiness."

   "You make it sound so simple," she said.

   "I know it's not simple," he said softly.  "I know what it's like to
want something you can't have."

   "You could find a young woman," said Jane.

   "The kind of woman I'm looking for isn't interested in hanging around an
old man," he said, smiling gently.

   "That's not true!" she said.  "I just admitted that I'm attracted to
you, and you just admitted that you're attracted to me!"

   "That's not the same thing as deciding to have children with me," he
said.  "It's not the same thing as deciding to spend the best years of your
life with a man who will almost certainly die before you do, and leave you
alone.  Think about it, Jane.  No young woman is going to saddle herself
with that kind of life, once she really thinks about it."

   "She would if she were happy with you," insisted Jane.  "If you made her
feel complete, she'd treasure the time she had with you, just like you
treasured the time you had with your wife."

   "If only I could be so lucky," he said.  "You're only attracted to me
because I remind you of your father."

   "That's not true!" she said hotly.  "The other night, for the first time
since I can remember, I thought about you, instead of ..."

   Her eyes widened as she realized what she'd admitted.  She put her face
in her hands again, embarrassed.

   "That's quite a compliment," he said gently.

   He wanted to reach out and touch her, but he knew that would be the
wrong thing to do.

   "I'm so embarrassed," she moaned.

   "Would it make you feel any better if you knew you affected me the same
way?" he ventured.  "When I saw you in that swim suit ...  even before that
...  I couldn't control my imagination."

   Jane's embarrassment was suddenly tinged with something else ...  a
feeling in the pit of her stomach that was familiar.  She realized she was
horny.  Having this man say things like that shot streaks of guilty
pleasure through her.

   "What are we going to do?" she moaned.

   "We don't have to do anything," he said.

   "I feel so jumbled up inside," she moaned again.

   "Welcome to the club," he sighed.

   "I can't help but think about ...  things," she said into her hands.

   "I can't either, but that doesn't mean we have to act on that," he
insisted.  "Why don't we put all that aside and just get to know each other
a bit more."

   She looked at him, her face tear-streaked.

   "I can't put that aside," she whispered.

   "You have no idea how good that makes me feel." He smiled.  "I thought
you'd hate me for lusting after an engaged girl."

   Her laughter this time was pure hysteria, but it let out a lot of
pressure.

   "And I was sure you'd hate me for comparing you to my own father!"

   "I want to hug you, right now," he said, his face serious.  "But that
probably wouldn't be a good thing to do, huh?"

   She laughed again, more tension flooding out of her mouth.  "You have no
idea!"

   He put a mournful face on.  "That only makes me want to hug you even
more."

   She stood up, suddenly full of energy.  "Then we'd better get out of
here, because if we stay here, we may end up doing it on the table."

   Roger was astonished.  "You're kidding!" he gasped.

   "Right now I have no idea what could happen," she said.  "I didn't
expect any of this to happen, and I don't know what to do about it." she
threw up her hands.  "Just the way you looked at me in that bikini made me
want to ..." She blushed and turned away.

   "Wow!" sighed Roger.  "You have no idea how good you're making me feel."

   "I know how good you're making ME feel," said Jane, shooting him a look
that said much more than her words did.  "I'm a good girl.  I only cheated
on Jed once, and I felt terrible.  Right now I'm feeling just like I did
when I let things happen, and I don't want to feel any worse than I already
do.  So let's just get out of here and go somewhere else for a while or
something, OK?"

   "OK," he said, almost giddy that she wasn't just telling him to fuck off
and leave her alone.

   =================================

   They tried shopping, since that was a mundane kind of thing that they
both thought might defuse the situation a little.  It didn't work.  They
found themselves looking at clothing that each would look good in.  When
Roger drifted toward the lingerie in one shop, Jane took his hand and
pulled him away.

   "No, you don't," she snapped, feeling the warmth and strength in his
hand.  She let go of it like it was burning her.

   "A guy can dream, can't he?" laughed Roger.

   "Not about that," she said grumpily.  "This isn't working."

   "How about sports equipment?" he asked, smiling.

   "OK, she agreed."

   They looked at tennis rackets, and Roger went silent.

   "What are you thinking?" asked Jane.

   "About how you'd look in a short tennis outfit," he admitted.

   "You're not trying," she moaned.

   "Cookware?" he suggested hopefully.

   They looked in all the shops, but there was no cookware to be found.

   "It wouldn't have mattered," sighed Roger.  "Even if there had been
some, I'd have just imagined you cooking, dressed only in an apron."

   She stood, her hands hanging at her sides.

   "Are you TRYING to seduce me?" she complained.

   "With every ounce of energy I have," he sighed.  She opened her mouth to
snarl and he held up a hand.  "I'm just being honest ...  like Bob said to
do."

   "I need some help, here," she whined.  "You're making things difficult!"

   "I can't help what I feel," he said.  "Maybe you need another partner."

   Jane thought about that.  As much as she was determined not to stray
from what she thought was the right way for her to be, she was getting so
much pleasure from being with a man who lusted after her that she knew
she'd just think about him, even if she was with one of the others.

   "I'm a good girl," she reminded him.

   "You are," he agreed.  "That's one of the things that makes you
attractive."

   "I'm going to be married!" she insisted.

   "Are you?" he asked.

   "Not if I give in to my feelings," she complained.  "I can't go off and
cheat on Jed again and expect things to turn out well.  And you wouldn't
certainly wouldn't marry me!"

   "Who said so?" he said seriously.

   She tossed a hand in the air.  "Be serious.  We don't even know each
other!"

   "Haven't you ever heard of love at first sight?" he asked.

   "Is that what this is?" she snarled.  "You see a smallish woman, who
reminds you of one of your teeny-bopper fantasies, and I see a man who
reminds me I want to have incest with my father ...  and we call it love at
first sight?"

   "That's not fair," he said, still serious.  "I know you're no
teeny-bopper, and you know your fantasy will always be just that - a
fantasy.  Why, then, are we still attracted to each other?"

   "We're not supposed to be talking about this," she moaned.

   "We're supposed to be talking about what we feel," said Roger.  "Isn't
that what Bob said?  We're supposed to be talking about things that are
important to us.  We're doing just that."

   "I don't even know what love is," she whined.

   "You never will know, unless you explore," he said.

   "I CAN'T explore!" she almost shouted.  "I'm ENGAGED!"

   "By someone's choice other than your own, if what you said is true," he
said, much too reasonably.

   "We can't just hop in bed!" The overwhelming emotion in her bubbled out
in a giggle.

   "That's not what I'm after, actually," said Roger.

   She blinked and looked at him, confused.

   "I mean that would be wonderful, no doubt about it," he said, his eyes
roaming down and back up her body.  "But if you ever go to bed with me, I
want it to be because you want to, and not just to slake some thirst.  I
want it to mean something.  I don't want you to cheat on whats-his-name ...
Jed ...  with me.  If we end up in bed, I want it to be because we both
want to share that kind of passion ...  to give to each other something
special, without guilt, or remorse."

   His little speech bored into Jane's innermost essence.  That was the
kind of thing she'd always dreamed about ...  a relationship that meant
something ...  where both individuals were partners ...  where she really
wanted to be with the man, and he wanted to be with her because of who she
was, and not because she was instructed to fulfill her role as a woman.  At
that precise moment, she knew she'd succumb to his seduction ...  that
she'd let him ravish her ...  that she'd ravish him back, if she could
figure out how to.  The knot in her gut suddenly loosened.  It was as if
she had opened the closet door and, instead of finding the boogey-man, she
found a rack of frilly gowns to wear.

   Then, the darkness closed back in, as she imagined her father's scowl,
when she announced she wasn't going to marry Jed, and wasn't going to stop
teaching.

   "I don't know if I can do that," she whispered.

   "Neither do I," he said gently.  "You hungry?"

   His abrupt change of subject made her wonder if the pain in her gut was
from hunger.  She hoped so.  If eating could make it go away, that would
make her feel a lot better.

   "Maybe," she said.

   Chapter Nine - Roberta and Jeff

   That first kiss unleashed something in both of them that had to be
addressed.  Both had been neglected for so long, and had been in so much
pain, that the chance to share intimacy overwhelmed their normal response
to resist cheating, and the guilt both felt as they realized cheating was
exactly what was about to happen.  Both rationalized that, if their spouses
were behaving like spouses should, neither of them would ...  misbehave.

   There was no talk ...  not at first, anyway.  There were only more hot
kisses, as fingers tore at clothing, hers undressing him, and his making
her naked.

   Both were as ready as if they had engaged in hours of foreplay, and they
landed on the bed with twin thumps, writhing against each other, pressing
flesh to flesh and glorying in the feel of that touch.  His hands went to
her breasts, and hers felt for his manhood.  She felt no shame.  Instead,
when she felt his iron hard penis, she felt only relief that he wanted her
as much as she wanted him.

   When he slid into her she almost screamed, but bit it off, groaning with
the delicious ecstasy of being filled with hard prick.  He felt different
in every way, both outside her, and inside too.  Her body jerked, suddenly
unable to establish a rhythm, and she flailed under his weight as he rutted
into her.  His gasps, as he pounded her, signaled that he would not last
long, but she didn't care, because her own orgasm was rushing towards her
like a freight train at full speed.  Part of her mind knew she'd feel
miserable about this soon, but she pushed that away and welcomed her orgasm
with open arms, straining up against him to achieve it.  She heard his
choking gasps, and felt the warmth of his sperm, flooding her.  Then she
did scream as something broke loose inside her and she thrummed with the
release she had been denied for so long.

   They lay, as if dead.  He tried to roll off her, but she held him there,
loving the feeling of being pressed into the covers of the bed.  They
hadn't even pulled down the bedspread.  She envisioned herself, lying
spread eagled, naked, with a strange man on top of her, but instead of
feeling shame, she brought her arms to his back and held him tightly.  THIS
man craved her.  THIS man wanted her.  She still felt THIS man's penis in
her, and the hot seed it had left in her belly.  She felt unaccountably
happy, for the first time in a long time.  She kissed his neck, and he
lifted his head to look into her eyes.

   "I'm not sorry," he panted.

   "Neither an I," she whispered back.  "Not yet, anyway."

   "Can you wait to be sorry until after I can go again?" he asked,
dragging in great breaths of air.  "I didn't do too well."

   "You were wonderful," she sighed.  "You gave me exactly what I needed."

   "You're not mad?" he asked, fear in his eyes.

   "Not at you," she said, smiling.

   "I want to stay this way forever," he sighed.

   "We can't," she said.  "You won't get hard again if we stay like this."

   She pushed him off, and showed him what she meant as she bounced up and
got on her hands and knees, pushing him onto his back.  Her head swooped
and she took him in her mouth, sucking lovingly, while she toyed with his
balls.  He groaned, and to his amazement, felt himself thicken in her
mouth.

   "Ohhh baby," he moaned, his hand going to her hair.

   When he was hard again, she crawled up and did something that was a
completely new experience for her.  She got on top.  He helped her socket
his prick into her dripping pussy, and she sat down on him with a groan of
satisfaction.  She felt his hands come up and mold her breasts.  For the
first time in as long as she could remember, she felt like she HAD breasts,
as his fingers squeezed and massaged them.  Then his hands went to her
up-thrusting nipples and squeezed them gently.

   "Mmmmm that feels so good," she moaned, rocking on his prick.

   "My, but you look nice today," said Jeff, remembering that she'd said
that was an appropriate kind of compliment.

   She remembered too, and laughed.  She was amazed at how free she felt to
do this forbidden thing with this delightful man.  She looked down at his
eyes, and saw the man she should have married, instead of Phillip.  She
pushed that away too.

   "Suck them," she said, leaning down to present a nipple to his mouth.

   He did, and her pussy fluttered as she had an orgasm.  She writhed
against him, loving every second of it.

   "I can't believe we're doing this," said Jeff, staring up at the naked
woman on top of him.  Melanie was beautiful, but somehow she paled, when
compared to this woman, who had come so alive, so quickly.  He really did
wish they never had to stop doing this.

   "We're not supposed to be doing this," said Roberta, feeling no guilt at
all.  "But I can't tell you how happy I am that we are." She sat up,
letting his prick dig deep, and her belly rippled as she squeezed him with
muscles she had just realized she had control over.

   "I can't believe I'm about to cum again," he gasped.

   She leaned down, aware that she wasn't protected ...  that her status as
a good Catholic girl was making her vulnerable to the sperm he'd already
put in her, and was about to add to.

   "Cum in me," she whispered, imagining her abdomen swollen with his baby.

   ============================

   After the second time, they lay there long enough for the guilt and
reality of the situation to settle back in.  In a strange way, as they
cuddled, the feel of flesh on flesh was fine.  The intimacy of touching
each other in non-sexual ways was acceptable.  The knowledge of what they'd
just done, though, was less so, for both of them.  Both were still wearing
their wedding rings, and both of them felt them on their fingers.

   "I'm not sorry," insisted Jeff, mostly to himself, and mostly in an
attempt to convince himself that he wasn't.

   "Why does life have to be so unfair?" asked Roberta.  "Why couldn't we
have met each other years ago?"

   "It wouldn't have been the same," said Jeff.  "We might not have even
been attracted to each other back then."

   She looked at him.  "I can't imagine myself not being attracted to you."

   "That's just because I just had my way with you," he said, smiling
tentatively.

   "As I recall, I'm the one who attacked you," she argued.

   "I've never done this before," he said softly.

   "Neither have I," she said.

   "I don't even really know you," said Jeff.

   "I feel like you know me better than my own husband," sighed Roberta. 
"Is that terrible?"

   "Only because you deserve better," said her lover.

   "You're sweet," she whispered.

   "Do you want to go again?" he asked suddenly.

   Her hand felt for him, and found he was half hard.

   "Can you?" she asked.

   "With you ...  yes," he said.

   "Good."

   ===================================

   After this time they got up.  Roberta felt a natural urge to shower, but
she suddenly felt like she didn't want to wash him off of her.  Instead,
she got back into her clothing, feeling guilty for wanting his scent to
cling to her ...  for wanting his sperm to stay deep in her belly, where
she suddenly felt like it belonged.

   "I have to tell you something," she said, breaking the silence.

   "Don't tell me ...  you're married," he quipped, and grinned.

   "I'm Catholic," she said, ignoring his attempt at humor.

   "So?" He sounded like it was nothing.

   "Catholics don't use contraception," she said.

   He turned and stared at her.  "Why didn't you tell me?" he moaned.  "I
could have pulled out!"

   "I didn't want you to pull out," she said, hesitantly.

   "Really?" He sounded amazed.

   "It's kind of hard to explain," she said.  "Part of it is because we
believe that whatever happens should happen ...  is part of the plan.  Part
of it is that I kind of wanted you ...  what you gave me ...  to have a
chance.  Is that OK?" she asked, worried.

   "Are you kidding?" he gasped.

   "I just thought you should know," she said.  "I'm sorry I didn't tell
you sooner.  That wasn't fair to you."

   "What in the world are you talking about?" he said, wonder in his voice.
"You're the one who could get pregnant."

   "That's the point.  You should have had the opportunity to decide
whether or not you wanted that to happen," she said, as if it was the most
reasonable thing in the world to say.

   "I couldn't have stopped myself if you'd have promised me you WERE
getting pregnant," said Jeff, blinking.  "Just the fact that you told me
that has me stiff again!"

   "Really?" She looked at the front of his pants.

   "Didn't I tell you I wanted children?" he asked.  "I mean, I know I'm
not supposed to want them with someone other than my wife, but the thought
of you being pregnant ...  because of me ...  I have to tell you that gets
me going."

   She looked him dead in the eyes and said: "Good, I know how to get you
going later tonight."

   "Maybe we should talk about this," said Jeff, uncertainly.  "We've only
known each other for what ...  a day and a half?"

   "I thought you wanted to make me pregnant," she said.

   "I do!" he yelped.  He looked surprised.  "But I'm not supposed to want
to!"

   "I'm not supposed to want you to do anything we just did," said Roberta.
"But I don't regret a single second of it.  I wanted Phillip to make me
pregnant.  If he won't, then you'll do."

   He looked crestfallen.  "Is that all I am?" he asked.  "Just a handy
supply of sperm?"

   She went to him.

   "No," she said softly.  "That's not what I meant at all.  This all
happened so fast.  I know neither of us planned for anything like this, but
it happened, and I can't help how I feel.  Something happened, and I loved
it.  I don't know if I love you.  I don't see how we could possibly be in
love right now, but I know how I'd feel if I was pregnant with your baby.
I'd feel wonderful.  Isn't that strange?  I don't understand it at all ...
but that's how I feel."

   "We definitely need to talk," said Jeff.

   "How about over supper?" she asked, rubbing her stomach.

   Jeff looked at her hand, rubbing over the place where his sperm was ...
the sperm that might, at this very second, be penetrating her egg.  He felt
something between a weakness that threatened to drop him to the floor, and
a rush of adrenaline that threatened to enable him to float up into the
air.

   "Yes ...  supper," he sighed.

   "And then we'll come back here," she said, confidently.

   "Back here," he repeated.

   "Of course," she said, airily.  "We just got started.  I haven't been
made love to in over four months.  I have a lot of catching up to do."

   "Ohhh, baby," he groaned.  His prick was firming up even more.

   "I love it when you call me baby," she said, kissing him gently on the
lips.  "Now, if we don't leave, I'm going to have to take your clothes back
off, and we wouldn't want that.  You might make me pregnant."

   She kissed him again, and then pulled him to the door.

   ====================================

   Jane and Roger were walking by Roberta's room, when the door opened and
she and Jeff came out.  Both of them looked like they'd just gotten out of
bed, and they were holding hands.  When they saw Jane and Roger, their
hands dropped apart, and both looked as guilty as it was possible to look.

   Roger's sudden impulse couldn't be denied.

   "Don't feel to badly," he said, walking up to them.  "You're not the
only ones who feel that way."

   "Is it that obvious?" choked Jeff, as Roberta turned around to face away
from them.

   "Don't worry about it on account of us," said Roger, taking Jane's hand.
"Didn't Bob say that what happens here stays here?"

   Roberta slowly turned back around and looked at Jane.

   "Did you two ...?"

   Jane flushed darkly.

   "Not yet, but I have a sneaking suspicion we will.  We're on our way to
dinner right now to try to stave it off a little longer."

   "You're kidding!" said Roberta, surprised to her core that the woman was
being so honest.

   "I even made him walk down this side," said Jane calmly, "because my
room is over there, and I don't know if I could make it past my own door."

   Roger just squeezed her hand gently.

   "We'd offer to have supper with you," said Roberta, "but Jeff and I need
to talk about things."

   "We've already talked," said Roger, smiling.  "That's the problem." He
squeezed Jane's hand again.

   "We didn't talk very much," said Jeff.  Everyone looked at him and he
blushed.  "What I meant was that we talked for a little while, and then
things just kind of started happening."

   "That's kind of where we are," said Roger.  "We're going to dinner to
try to keep things from happening."

   "Why?" asked Roberta.  "You're not married."

   "I'm engaged," said Jane.  "Or at least I was until I started talking to
Roger."

   Roger looked at her, surprised.

   "I don't feel very engaged right now," she said darkly.

   "You want my advice?" asked Roberta suddenly.

   "What's that?" asked Jane.

   "Skip supper," said the woman, running her fingers through her hair.

   "Don't joke with me," said Jane.  "I'm having a hard enough time as it
is."

   "I'm not joking," said Roberta.  "I have no idea what happened in
there." She nodded toward her room.  "But somehow, I can't help feeling
that it was the right thing.  I know that sounds crazy, and I have no idea
where all this is going to end up, and I know that what happened in there
was ...  wrong ...  but I also know it was a good thing." She looked at
Jane.  "You might find out the same thing."

   Jane looked longingly at Roger, and pulled her hand away.

   "I'm still not sure," she said.

   "Then go to dinner," said Roberta.  "That's fine too."

   They walked on, together, until Roberta stopped again, looking at a room
door.

   "Isn't this your room, Roger?" she asked.

   "Uh ...  yes," he said.  He coughed gently.  "I didn't want to mention
that."

   Roberta looked at Jane, who was standing, wide-eyed, looking at the
door.

   "Jane, are you really hungry?" she asked.

   "No," whispered Jane, her shoulders drooping.

   "Then wait until you are," said Roberta gently.  "I know an excellent
way to work up an appetite." She blushed.  She couldn't believe she was
acting like this, but she felt free for the first time in years.

   As Roberta took Jeff's hand again, and pulled him away, Roger was taking
the key from around his neck and moving to his door.  "Don't look at them,"
Roberta hissed to Jeff, who was craning his neck to watch.

   "Oh Roger," came Jane's defeated voice, just before they heard the door
close and cut off her moan.

   Chapter Ten - Woody and Crystal

   Oddly, it was Woody who took charge now.  He was thinking about dancing,
which was his strong suit.  And, now that she was willing to talk, he felt
better about being more aggressive.  He took her to the sweeping driveway,
where two cabs were parked under the awning at the front entrance of the
conference center.  Both drivers were napping, their windows down in the
evening heat.

   Woody woke the younger one up.

   "Any place in town that has more than one dancing style?" he asked.

   "Yeah," said the man, rubbing his eyes.  "The Prestige Club plays a
pretty good mix."

   "I suppose it would be too much to ask if they ever have ballroom
dancing," said Woody.

   "Willy No Chin is the band leader," said the cabby.  "He brags that his
band can play anything ever written."

   "Willy No Chin?" asked Woody, grinning.

   "Don't let his name fool you.  He's good.  He just doesn't have much
chin, that's all."

   "I want to wine and dine this lady too," said Woody, winking.

   "Know just the place," said the cabby.  "My name's John."

   "Well, John, whisk us away from here to some good food, and I'll call
you to pick us up and take us to the club."

   "You got it, man," said John, starting the cab.

   "I'm not dressed for this," said Crystal.

   "You're gorgeous, and I have the hots for you," said Woody, opening the
door and bowing.  "That's all that matters."

   "Don't push it, buster," said Crystal, folding herself into the back
seat of the cab.  "Remember ...  talk first ...  dancing maybe."

   "I have complete confidence in my ability to sweep you off your feet,"
said Woody, grinning.  "And, once I have you back on your feet, and on the
dance floor, you'll never want to stop."

   "I am not a dancer, Woody," she grumbled.

   "You will be, my sweet," he said, closing the door.  "You will be."

   ========================

   Dinner, for Crystal, was a dichotomy.  It was somewhat of a letdown, in
the sense that, while they talked about all kinds of things, none of them
were anything more than casual conversation.  He talked about where he grew
up, and asked her questions about places she had been, and things she had
seen, jobs she'd had and movies she liked.  It was somewhat of a rush for
her too, because, at one point, she realized he'd gotten more stories of
her own history out of her than she had ever told anyone else, including
her ex-husband.  Gone was his brash assumption that anything at all would
happen between them.  It was obvious he just loved to talk and learn about
the person he was with.

   He wasn't shy about telling things about himself either.  He shared a
story of hijinks he and his High School buddies had done, and the trouble
they'd gotten into over them, and then talked about working in a homeless
shelter one summer, just to try to find out what that was all about.  He
was dead serious one minute, and the next he was telling a story about
trying to make his mother believe he was really trying to learn the
clarinet when all he could play were two songs.

   Crystal watched him eat, and noticed little things about him.  He
actually used his napkin, instead of leaving it on his lap the entire meal.
He passed her things when all she did was glance at them, almost as if he
were reading her mind.  As much as he talked, he never did it with his
mouth full, yet seemed to keep perfect pace with her, so that they finished
their meal at the same time.  She wondered, for a while, if she were being
played, by a master player.  She could almost taste the charisma wafting
around him.  He'd read everything, seen everything, and seemed to know
almost everything.

   She also noticed that, throughout the entire meal, he never once looked
at her breasts.  He also never flirted with her once.

   "You know I'm probably ten years older than you," she said suddenly.

   "Maybe." He took a drink of his iced tea.  He didn't seem to care how
young or old she was.  He wadded up his napkin and put it on his plate, a
sign for whoever cleaned the table that he had enjoyed his meal.  "We
talked," he said, leaning back.  "Now ...  how about that dance?"

   "I don't know any dances," said Crystal, feeling like a young girl. 
"When you're all arms and legs, dancing isn't one of your favorite sports."

   "I saw you get into the hot tub last night," he said.  "You move like a
dancer.  I bet you're very limber."

   "That's something I've worked on all my life," she admitted.  "It helps
with joint issues.  I can hook both ankles behind my head."

   Something flashed in his eyes, and he made a little smile on his face.
She had the sudden image of how he must be thinking about that little trick
...  what she'd look like with her ankles behind her head ...  naked, of
course.  She felt a little disappointment as he opened his mouth.  She
fully expected him to say how much he'd like to see her do that.  She was
almost shocked when, instead, he said something completely different.

   "Flexibility is the key to dancing," he said.  "Learning the steps is
the easy part.  Learning how to use your body ...  how to transition
movement from one part of your body to another, to create a seamless flow
of motion ...  that's the hard part.  You're used to feeling your muscles
as you stretch.  If you've been at it all your life, you probably stretch
individual muscles in a sequence.  Am I right?"

   "Yes," she nodded, amazed that he could know that.

   "Dancing is just using various muscles in sequence," he said.  "You'll
catch on easily.  I promise."

   "I'm not graceful," she objected.

   "You're very graceful," he countered.  "I've seen you walk.  I've seen
you stoop to pick up a pen you dropped.  I've seen you step over the side
of a hot tub like it was a kiddy pool.  You are a study of controlled
motion."

   "You're trying to seduce me again." She smiled, and this time it was a
real smile.

   "That's true," he said.  "But that's not why I said that.  I meant that.
You have what it takes to learn to dance.  We're not talking the Rockettes,
here, just some Friday night fun.  What you're really worried about is that
you'll be the tallest person on the floor."

   "Well?" She folded her arms across her chest.  "Won't I be?"

   "Who cares?" he said.  "I probably won't even know.  I won't be looking
at anybody else.  You're my date.  I'm honor bound to pay attention to
you."

   "This is not a date," said Crystal firmly.

   "I guess that means we're going Dutch, huh?" he said, as if he didn't
care whether she called it a date or not.  "But you owe me a dance, if only
because I have the hots for you."

   "Why would you having the hots for me require that I dance with you?"
she asked, feeling unaccountably happy that he'd gone back to flirting with
her.

   "It's a rule in the official relationship handbook, printed by Harper
and Rowe, copyright 1957," he said smoothly.  "Rule number seventy-three,
on page thirty-five, if you want me to be specific."

   He said it so seriously that she had to laugh.

   "OK, one dance," she said.

   "I get to TEACH you one dance," he amended.  "That may require that we
dance three or four times, but it's really the same thing."

   "Of course it is," she said, trying to be serious, but failing and
grinning.  "I can't wait to see how you make up rules about when I have to
kiss you, and what THAT involves."

   "Oh, we're not even close to that part of the rule book," he said,
waving a hand.  "I wouldn't worry about that, if I were you.  You can trust
me implicitly, anyway.  I never bend the rules, or use them to my
advantage. Your virginity is perfectly safe with me."

   She laughed out loud then, and finally got a grin from him.

   "OK, Cassanova," she laughed.  "Teach me to dance."

   ================================

   Two hours later Crystal sat down limply.  She was sweating profusely,
and felt like she'd been in the gym the whole time.  Somehow, he managed to
move her from the first dance he taught her, into one that used some of the
same upper body moves, but did something completely different with the feet
and hips.

   But what kept her there ...  what kept her from saying it was time to go
...  that she had fulfilled her part of the bargain ...  was watching HIM
dance.

   He had the fluid grace of a professional dancer.  His feet seemed to
float half an inch above the floor, and his body moved in ways she was able
to do, but only with intense concentration.  Yet, when he did it, his body
flowed and bent as if it were controlled by some immense computer.  Half
the time he danced with his eyes closed, and yet it made no difference.  He
never ran into anybody else and he circled her like smoke, always near her,
brushing her elbow with his fingertips, or stroking her hips with a quick
touch.  It seemed as though he never danced the same way twice, except for
when he was teaching her basic movements.

   She didn't feel awkward any more.  His patient instruction made her feel
like her body WAS graceful.  She understood how to move her upper body, and
let that motion transition into her belly, hips and then legs.  She
couldn't tap or stomp out the drum lines with her feet, like he could, but
it didn't matter, because she still felt like she was dancing better than
she had in her whole life.

   The only dance she remembered was one from her childhood, that she'd
learned for a musical that had a sock hop in it.  She'd learned the male
part, because the girl had to spin under his hand, and he had to throw her
out and pull her back.  None of the boys could do that with her, but the
teacher had said that girls in the fifties danced together like that all
the time, and that it lent accuracy to the presentation.

   Woody knew the dance too, and was able to let her take the lead with
hardly a stumble, as the band cranked out a whole set of Beach Boys and Jan
and Dean surfer songs.

   They'd sat out the slow songs.  It wasn't because Crystal demanded it.
Whenever a slow song came on, Woody went off to the bathroom, or to get
them another drink, or just sat her down to rest.  Talking was easier on
the slow songs, which weren't as noisy.  A slow song was playing now.

   Woody came back with more fruit juice.  He wouldn't let her drink
alcohol while they were dancing, because he said it dulled the senses and
put lead in the feet.  He sat down and leaned back.

   "I could go on all night," he said.  "You're a much better dancer than
you think."

   She gulped the juice thirstily.

   "But we should probably call it a night," he said.  "We have class
tomorrow, or whatever you call it.  I would like to dance one slow dance
with you before we go, though.  Would you do that for me?"

   "I suppose that's the one dance I owe you," she said, smiling tiredly.
She'd thought she was in pretty good shape.  She'd found out differently in
just two hours of dancing with Woody.  He, on the other hand, was breathing
normally.

   "Rule seventy-three," he said, grinning.

   "OK," she said simply.

   "Be right back," he said.

   She saw him go talk to Willy No Chin, who kept directing his band, and
talked to Woody at the same time.  It was pretty impressive.  She saw Willy
nod and Woody passed him some money.  The song ended as Woody got back to
the table.  Willy No Chin stepped up to the microphone.

   "We're going to play another cuddly song now," he said.  "This one is
for all you guys out there who have the hots for the girl you're with. 
Enjoy."

   Crystal recognized the song as one played by the Moody Blues, but she
couldn't remember the name of it.  It wasn't really slow, in the classical
sense, but you couldn't dance fast to it either.  Woody held out his hand,
and she took it.

   His face wasn't, as it turned out, between her breasts.  His nose was
right about where her collar bones met at her breast bone.  She was still
wearing the blouse she'd worn to the seminar that morning.  It buttoned
down the front, and she'd undone two of the buttons while they danced, only
to let her sweaty body get a little air.  Now, as he held her firmly
against him, with his right hand in the middle of her back, and his left
holding her right out as if they were waltzing, he led her through a series
of almost spins.  She felt lead footed, but his feet somehow never stepped
on hers, or let hers step on his.  She felt almost dizzy as he whirled her
around.

   Then, in the middle of it all, she felt his lips press to her skin,
between her breasts.  It was just a brief little touch, but it electrified
her.  She suddenly felt his hips pressed to her upper thighs.  For once she
was thankful that she was taller than the man she was dancing with, because
she couldn't feel what was between his legs.  His nose moved to the right,
pushing her blouse in that direction, and he kissed the inner slope of her
left breast.  He let the tip of his nose drift across her upper chest and
did the same to the other side, just kissing lightly and then moving on. 
She felt tingles start up all over her body.  His lips pressed onto her
breast bone and she felt a vibration being transmitted from his lips to her
body.  She realized he was humming with the melody of the music.  They had
stopped whirling, and were just swaying to the music now, turning very
slowly.  Their extended arms had pulled back in, and were now curled, the
forearms touching.

   Crystal, suddenly feeling more feminine than she had in a long, long
time, realized her left hand had left his shoulder, and slid to the back of
his head.  She was holding his face to her body.  She felt his hair under
her fingers.  It was soft, and it felt good.  His face moved left again,
pushing her blouse to the side until the button below stopped it.  She
realized, with a start, that her hand had pushed his head that direction.
He kissed that breast, just next to where her bra covered her, and she felt
him give the skin there a short, quick lick with the tip of his tongue. 
She couldn't believe how good it felt, but she felt embarrassed about not
having full control over her body, and slid her hand back to his shoulder.

   He looked up and smiled.

   "You smell good," he said.  "You taste good too."

   "You're misbehaving," she said, looking down into his eyes.

   "Not too badly," he said, lowering his face to kiss her breast bone
again.  He looked back up.  "Your virginity is still safe."

   "I'm far from being a virgin, you goose," she said, smiling gently.

   "Not as far as I'm concerned," he said.  "We've never done anything
together, and in my book that makes us both virgins.  If, at some point in
the future, we decide to share that kind of thing, it will be a gift from
each of us to the other, something we can never do for the first time
again. To me, that would be sharing something just as precious as true
virginity."

   The song ended, and Crystal looked around to see couples still
embracing, some of them kissing.  She wondered what it would be like to
kiss Woody.

   "You ready to head back to the resort?" he asked.

   "I guess so," she said.  He'd been right.  Once she'd danced with him,
she wanted to keep going for a long time.

   ============================

   The cab ride back to the resort was quiet.  For once, Woody wasn't
talking, and that gave Crystal time to wonder what he'd do when they got
back.  Would he try to kiss her?  If he did, would she let him?  She had
mixed feelings about that.  He seemed so sure of himself, and she got a
little miffed about that, when she thought about it.  At the same time,
everything he'd said would happen HAD happened, in one way or another. 
They'd certainly talked, and they'd talked quite frankly.  She had liked
dancing, and hungered for the chance to be in as good a shape as he was,
and know dancing like he did, so she could whirl and float with him.  He'd
been the perfect gentleman, not counting all those kisses on her chest. 
She remembered his hot lips on her skin there, and a tiny shudder went
through her.  She remembered making love, but it was a dim memory.  Still,
she knew his lips would feel just as hot, and just as soft, other places on
her body.

   She shook her head.  This was silly.  They were strangers, thrown
together for a week, and then they'd never see each other again.  She
couldn't let him get under her skin.  He was nice, but it was too dangerous
to trust a man, and let him in.

   She decided to be firm, and that there would be no kissing good night,
this night, or any other.  A little flirting was fine, but that was all it
would be.

   She was completely unprepared, therefore, when they stepped out of the
cab, and he took her right hand in his and raised it, to kiss the tips of
her fingers.

   "I had a good time tonight." he said, smiling.  "You're a good partner
to do this kind of thing with," he said.  "See you at breakfast?" He
dropped her hand.

   She was stunned.  She'd been ready to tell him all kinds of things ...
to lay down the law ...  to establish ground rules.  But before she could
say a word, he was walking away, waving over his shoulder at her.  She
stood there, watching him saunter off, and fumed inside.  This wasn't the
way it was supposed to be!  How dare him get her all worked up, and then
just walk off!

   She blinked.  She WAS worked up!  She didn't have to look at the front
of her blouse to know that her nipples were poking through her bra and the
cloth of her blouse too.  They'd been doing that all night long.  He hadn't
paid them any attention at all, though, at least not as far as she could
tell.  He could at least have TRIED to kiss her!

   She finally turned and wandered toward her room.

   She knew she'd have to masturbate before she could get to sleep.

   She growled, under her breath.  This was all HIS fault!

   Chapter Eleven - Chuck and Tiffany

   They left the bar, and then stopped.  Neither of them knew where to go,
or what to do now.

   "You want to go swimming?" he asked, thinking that maybe he could do
some laps and work off some of the sexual energy she had injected into him
by telling him she was thinking about his penis.  He couldn't believe she'd
said that.  He thought of her as being completely out of his class.  She
was beautiful, and oozed sex appeal.  He couldn't believe, for that matter,
that any man had refused to go with her, wherever she wanted to go.  That
dip she'd been going with had to be a complete loser to let her get away.
Still, she had to have been teasing when she made him promise to show her
his dick.  There was no way she'd show him her breasts.  He knew that as
well as he knew his own name.

   "You want to look at my body already?" came her voice.

   "No," he said.  "I want to do some laps."

   "We're supposed to be talking," she said.  "You have to promise to talk
to me if we go swimming."

   "OK," he said, giving in again.

   "OK, then," she said.  "Meet you at the pool in ten minutes."

   "I'll be there," he said.

   He was, in fact there, and already swimming strongly from one end of the
pool to the other, when she arrived.  He saw her standing on the side of
the pool, watching him, as he turned his face to breathe.

   He swam two more laps, sprinting, and then stood up in the shallow end,
staring back at her.  She looked fabulous in her bikini, and she knew it.
She moved, and held herself in that way that beautiful women cultivate,
that shows off their body without making it obvious that that's what
they're doing.

   Tiffany looked at the man in the water.  His chest muscles were corded
up from the stress of propelling himself through the water.  He'd looked
half fish as he swam, with not a motion wasted, cutting through the water
like there was a motor attached to him somewhere.  The sun glinted off his
upper body.  She had to admit he was a handsome man.  Handsome and
interesting.  She felt his eyes rake over her body, and suddenly felt
naked. She walked to the steps and stepped daintily down into the water. 
It felt good.

   "You're a very good swimmer," she said, wading over to him.

   "I'm a member at the YMCA, he said, stretching his arms backwards, to
stretch those bulging muscles on his chest.  "Swimming is one of the best
aerobic exercises you can do.  It works every muscle in your body if you do
it right."

   "I used to be in shape," she said.  "You had to be in shape to cheer. 
You got hurt if you weren't."

   "There's nothing wrong with the shape you're in," he said.

   "Aren't you sweet," she said, sinking down into the water to her neck.
"Tell me the craziest thing you ever did."

   "What?" he blinked.

   "The craziest thing you ever did," she repeated.  "I want to hear about
it."

   "Seriously," he said, as if he didn't quite believe her.

   "Seriously."

   "I guess that would have to be joining the Peace Corps," he said.

   She looked at him in amazement.  He was a VERY interesting man.

   "Really?  I had no idea you'd done that."

   "Yeah," he said, sinking down until he was neck deep like her.  "I did
it right out of High School.  Got sent to the Sahara, of all places.  Well,
the fringes of it, anyway.  We worked with Tuaregs, who had to give up
their nomadic life because a drouth killed most of their animals.  We were
teaching them to be farmers."

   He stopped, like he'd told the whole story.

   "How in the world did you do that and still get a teaching degree?" she
asked.

   "I did a three year tour, and then went to school.  I'm twenty-eight,"
he said.

   "You're kidding," said Tiffany, who was twenty-four.  "I thought you
were much younger than that."

   "Clean living," he said, as if looking four years younger than he was
was no big deal.

   "I'm impressed," she said.  "I want to hear all about it."

   She did hear all about it, but not in the usual way.  She had learned a
long time ago that men loved to talk about themselves.  All she usually had
to do was ask a few questions, acting like a ditzy blond, and off they
went, to happily boast about things for an hour or more.

   But it wasn't that way with Chuck.  He answered her questions, but
didn't go farther than that.  She had to practically interrogate him to
find out what life had been like in the Peace Corps.  He didn't seem to
mind talking about it ...  he just never volunteered anything.

   Eventually they got out of the water and lay on towels, side by side, as
they continued to talk.  Eventually he started asking her questions too. 
She found out he had a wicked sense of humor, something she'd never have
guessed about him.  He could do stand up routines from memory that he'd
seen years ago, and he did them so well that she laughed.

   She soaked in the sun, slathering on sun block, sometimes sitting Indian
style, sometimes flat on her back, and sometimes on her side, her head
propped up while they talked.  She threw him the bottle, demanding that he
protect his skin too, and he rubbed some on the places he could reach.

   "Turn around," she ordered.  "Your back will burn if you don't get some
there."

   She squirted a line of sun block across his back and smoothed her hands
over the hard muscles, enjoying the feel of them under her slippery
fingers.

   "There," she said, wiping the excess lotion on the part of her breasts
that were exposed to the sun.  He watched her do that, but didn't leer.

   "You're not quite the man I thought you were," she said.

   "Sorry," he replied.  "I'm just me."

   "That's not what I meant," she chided him.  "You're much deeper than you
look at first glance.  I misjudged you, and I'm sorry about that."

   "I'm just a guy, like any other," he said, uncomfortably.

   "I wish there were more guys out there just like you," she said.  "Life
would be a lot more interesting if there were."

   It was quiet for a moment.

   "I'm also sorry for teasing you ...  back in the bar," she said.  "That
was uncalled for."

   "Oh," he said, almost sadly.

   What Chuck was thinking of was that she wasn't really interested in his
penis after all.  He'd been wondering about that whole part of the
conversation.  Why a woman like Tiffany would give a hoot about anything he
had was a mystery to him.  She could have any man she wanted.

   "You look like you lost your last friend," she said, looking at him with
a frown on her face.

   "It's just that I'm not used to being around a woman like you, I guess,"
he said.

   "A woman like me," she said, the frown still on her face.

   "You know, beautiful, and popular and all that."

   "I thought we got past all that cheerleader bullshit," she said, her
voice terse.

   "Just look at you," he said.  "It has nothing to do with cheerleading.
You talk about being out of shape, but you could be a model if you wanted
to."

   "No I couldn't," she said.  "I have fat all over me.  Look at this!"

   She pinched the skin just above the waist band of her bikini.  She could
pinch maybe three quarters of an inch.

   "And this," she went on, squeezing the skin on the back of her thigh. 
She could get a whole inch there.

   "That's not fat, Tiffany," he said.  "That's skin.  You look great, and
you know it."

   She felt a thrill, associated with being given a real compliment.  She
felt the urge to touch him.  Instead, she got up and got back in the water.
He followed.  Again, they floated, neck deep in the water.  She couldn't
understand it, but she felt better when his eyes weren't caressing her body
...  like she was more in control.  She faced him.

   "You look great, too, she said, as if that proved anything.  "You have
muscles on your muscles.  You can't see them when you wear a shirt, but in
that swim suit you look delicious."

   "You're teasing me again," he said.

   "No I'm not!" she barked.  "You are a handsome man.  If you weren't so
shy you'd admit it."

   "And I suppose you're attracted to me ...  like Bob was talking about."
Chuck's voice was full of skepticism.

   "Before we came here, I might have said no," said Tiffany.  "But, in the
short time we've been here, and even though your and my time together has
been even shorter, I've learned enough to be able to say you DO appeal to
me.  So there!" She splashed water at him.

   "That's not possible," he said.  "Women like you don't get interested in
a guy like me."

   "What is WRONG with you?" she said loudly.  "Do I have to throw myself
at you to get you to believe me?  I'm not going to do that, buster."

   "Of course not," he said, his calm voice making her frustration level
climb.  "That's because you're not really attracted to me.  I'm just your
partner to play with while we're here.  After that you'll forget all about
me."

   Tiffany was stunned.  In the past, the normal roles had put her as the
pursued, having to manage the pursuer.  Now, somehow, she felt like the
roles had been reversed, and she didn't understand that.  All men panted
after her.  Why didn't this one?  He was obviously attracted to her.  She
could see it in his eyes.  But he was holding back, even after she HAD all
but thrown herself at him.  Surely he didn't really believe she was out of
his class.  That had been bullshit in High School, even if a lot of kids
had bought into it.  And he wasn't in High School any more.

   She wondered about that too.  Why HAD she taken things so fast?  Sure,
it had been a long time since she'd had sex.  But she wasn't some
hormone-filled sixteen year old cheerleader.  She looked at him, floating
in the water, three feet away, looking back at her.  That was it!  He was
three feet away!  He wasn't nudging up against her, crowding her, acting
like she had no personal space.  She thought back to the hot tub, but
couldn't remember if he'd touched her then.  Was he just shy ...  or was he
treating her like a lady?  She tried to think back to the last time a man
had treated her like a lady ...  a man who was interested in her sexually.
She couldn't remember, and it frustrated her.  She realized she now WANTED
to feel his eyes on her body.

   "I'm starting to wrinkle," she said suddenly.  "I need to get out."

   "Oh," he said.  There was obvious disappointment in his eyes, and she
marveled again at his restraint.

   "Come on," she said.  "We can keep talking while I dry off and change."

   "Oh ...  OK," he said, standing up.

   He followed her like a puppy to her room.

   "Come on in," she said.

   "You sure?" he asked.

   "I can obviously trust you," she said, an acid tinge to her voice.

   "True," he agreed, making her want to scream.

   She closed the door and almost immediately, completely on impulse,
unlatched the front of her bikini top.  It sprang apart, freeing her
breasts.  For the first time in her life she wondered if they sagged too
much.  She kept herself from looking down at them.

   "What are you doing?" came his hushed voice.

   "I promised to show them to you," she said, trying to sound calm and
unruffled.  "Besides, I have to take it off to dry and change.

   She started to ask him if he liked them, but suddenly thought that would
sound patently stupid.  He was staring right at them.  She tossed him her
bikini top.

   "Hang that up somewhere for me."

   He blinked and caught it.

   She went to the sink and got a towel, and began drying her hair.  She
looked in the mirror, her eyes darting to see if he was still looking at
her.  He was.  She felt her belly warm up inside.

   "You're teasing me again ...  aren't you?" he asked.

   Her eyes went to his, in the mirror.  She couldn't stop hers from
bounding to the front of his trunks, and she felt an almost palpable sense
of relief when she saw the bulge there.  He was obviously erect.

   "Maybe a little," she said, picking up a brush.  "But I did promise."

   "What do you want, Tiffany?" he asked.

   She pulled at the brush, untangling her hair.  She saw her breasts
wobble and shake in the mirror.  She tried to come up with something to
say.

   "I don't know," she finally said.  "I think I'm a little confused right
now."

   "Why?" he asked.

   "Most guys would be crawling all over me by now," she said, looking at
him in the mirror.  "You're not."

   "Is that what you want?" he asked.  "You want some guy to crawl all over
you?"

   "Of course not," she said instantly.

   "Then why would you do something like that ...  show me ...  like this?"

   She turned to face him.  She felt incredibly naked suddenly.

   "Look, you seem to think that there's some social barrier between us. 
Maybe there is something in the way, but I don't think it's anything except
what's in your mind.  Do you like me?"

   "Like you," he repeated.

   "You know ...  want to be around me ...  like talking to me ...  all
that?"

   "Yes," he said softly.

   "I don't know what I want," she said, frustration creeping into her
voice.

   She turned around and started combing her hair.

   "I like the way you look at me," she said, to her image.

   "You didn't like it last night," he pointed out.

   "I didn't really mind it all that much.  We're supposed to pretend to be
angry when a man ogles us," she said.

   "Why do you have to pretend anything?" he asked.

   "It's complicated," she said.  "Some guys ...  you don't want them to
look at you.  They're not the right guys.  But it's OK for some of them to
look.  I can't explain it."

   "What you're talking about is Bob's theory," he said.  "About how we
check each other out, and some of us make the cut, and some of us don't."

   "I guess so," said Tiffany, realizing he'd hit the nail right on the
head.  If she found a man attractive, he could look all he wanted.  It was
the ones she wasn't interested in that she objected to.  She turned to face
him again.

   "I think you're right," she said.  "I never thought about it like that
before."

   "So you didn't mind Jeff and Woody and me looking at you ...  because
we're all acceptable as potential mates?" he asked.

   She felt herself blushing.  She was standing in front of a man, almost
naked, which was fine, but somehow, when he put it that way, it seemed so
much more intimate.

   "I guess so," she said.

   "Do you like me?" he asked.  His meaning was obvious.  He meant it in
the same way she'd meant it.

   "Yes, I do," she said suddenly.

   "Well, that's a start," he said.

   "What do you call this?!" she said, holding her arms out, her breasts
jutting at him.

   "I call that the head cheerleader, shaking her tits at the audience," he
said calmly.

   "Don't you like it?" she asked, exasperated.

   "Of course I do," he said.  "But it's not the way to start a
relationship."

   "Is that what you want?" she asked.  "A relationship?"

   "Yes," he said softly.

   "I thought you wanted to boff the cheerleader!" she said, folding her
arms under her magnificent breasts.

   "I do," he said.  "In the worst way.  But that's different.  I haven't
met any women like you.  You're not a cheerleader to me." He smiled. 
"Well, sometimes you are ...  like now.  But I can't help but feel like if
I tried to do anything about it ...  it wouldn't turn out well."

   "Do you want to have sex with me ...  or not?" she asked suddenly.

   "I desperately want to have sex with you," he admitted.  "But later,
maybe ...  not now.  It's complicated for me too."

   "You still think I'm teasing you." she said.

   He got a funny look on his face.  "Maybe not," he said.  "It's really
hard for me to believe, but maybe not.  I don't want to believe you'd do
that on purpose ...  be cruel, I mean."

   "I didn't show you my breasts to be cruel to you," she said, unfolding
her arms.  "I said I would, and I did.  No, that's not true.  OK, it's
partly true.  Really, though, I wanted to see what you'd do if I did it."

   "Did I pass some kind of test?" he asked.

   "I don't know," she said, turning back to the mirror and brushing her
hair again.  "I don't know anything right now.  I don't usually do this.  I
haven't shown a man my breasts like this for a long time."

   "So it's really OK for me to look?" he asked.

   Her eyes went to his in the mirror.  "Yes ...  it is."

   "Good," he sighed.  "I like looking."

   Tiffany felt more tingles spread from her belly, up to her breasts.  She
looked at her nipples, and was surprised to see them not so flat, like they
usually were.  They weren't erect, but they weren't flat either.

   "You have to show me your penis, now," she said, amazed that her voice
didn't tremble.  She felt like it should tremble.

   "I don't know," he said.

   "You agreed," she reminded him.

   "Under duress, as I recall," he said.

   "I showed you my breasts," she said grumpily.

   "And I thank you from the bottom of my heart," he said, smiling.

   "It's not your heart I want to see right now," she mumbled.

   "This is just to look ...  right?" he asked cautiously.

   She turned back to him again.  "You didn't attack me, did you?"

   "Of course not," he said, sounding injured.

   She turned back to the mirror.  "If you don't show me your penis, I'm
going to take off my bottoms and come after you," she said, trying to make
a joke.

   He moved, and she turned quickly, afraid he was just going to leave. 
but he was bent over, his trunks at his ankles, and he stepped out of them.
When he stood, her breath caught in her throat.  It had been a long time
since she'd seen a naked, rigid penis.  It wasn't that he was particularly
long, or thick, or anything like that.  He was just obviously erect.  And,
it was only the second one she'd ever seen in person.

   She felt her pussy clench, and felt like she WAS seventeen again.

   "Oh," she said, feeling foolish.

   "I have to go," he said, somewhat breathlessly.

   He scrambled back into his trunks, reaching inside them to pull his
boner up.  He came toward her and, to her immense surprise, she backed up a
step, suddenly worried by the tone in his voice.  But all he did was pluck
the towel from her hands.  He bunched it in front of his groin and went to
the door.

   "We're eating supper together ...  right?" she blurted, almost in a
panic.  Now, feeling foolish for being afraid of him, she was afraid she
might never see him again ...  that she'd pushed him too far.

   "Yes," he said, not facing her.  "Give me half an hour."

   "OK," she said, as he opened the door.  Her hands automatically came to
cover her breasts as the outside light flooded through the door.

   Then he was gone.

   ============================

   Tiffany looked in the mirror, wondering what had just happened.  It was
completely different than she'd thought it would go, back in the bar.  He
was completely different.  She realized she was horny.  She took off her
bottoms, and went to lie on the bed.  Her fingers traced across her flat
belly, pausing to tease her pussy hair She needed to get this out of her
system, before she met him at dinner.  Then, maybe, she could think
straight.

   ============================

   Chuck went straight to his room.  He dropped his swimming trunks and
masturbated, standing up.  It took him less than a minute, with his eyes
closed, remembering what she looked like, to spurt into her towel.  His
heart was racing.  She hadn't called him stupid.  She hadn't laughed
scornfully.  She'd actually shown him her body voluntarily, and had wanted
to see his cock.  She wasn't like the others, even if she tried to act like
it.  For the first time in a long time, he thought there might be a chance
for him to find something, with a woman like her.  He milked his prick,
getting the last few drops out of it.  He wadded up the towel, to cover his
semen, and smelled it.  It smelled like her hair.

   He looked down.

   He was still hard.

   =============================

   Chapter Twelve - Roger and Jane

   Jane felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach as Roger closed
the door to his room.

   "I can't do this," she moaned.

   "I told you, we don't have to do anything," he said.

   "Why did you bring me in here then?" she asked, her knees feeling weak.

   "Roberta was trying to talk you into something," he said.  "I got you
away from her.  We can just sit an talk for a while, and then go eat."

   "Oh," she said, feeling disappointed, somehow.

   She sat in the easy chair in his room, before her knees failed her.

   "So, what do you want to talk about?" he asked.

   "Don't ask me that," she almost moaned.

   "We're both adults here," said Roger.  "We should be able to talk about
our feelings without getting all worked up."

   "I don't feel like an adult," she said mournfully.

   "Well you are," he insisted.

   "OK, then, I suppose the best thing to do is for me to go to my room,
and for you to stay here," she said, her chin almost jutting out.

   "I don't want to do that," he said.

   "You just won't make this easy ...  will you?" She glared at him.

   "Look," he said patiently.  "I don't know if what's going on here is
love at first sight, or just frustration, but I'd kind of like to find out.
I'm not trying to horn in on Jed's territory, but at the same time, it's
clear you're not really in love with him.  In my book that makes you fair
game."

   She looked startled and he realized he might have sounded coarse.  "That
sounded bad," he said.  "I didn't mean to make it sound like you're some
kind of conquest or something."

   "Right now, it would be simpler if you were all just cave men," she
said, sighing.  "Then you could fight over me." She sighed again.  "Jed
would probably win, though."

   "I might fight dirty," said Roger, smiling.

   "You're confusing me," she complained.  "How can a woman resist this
kind of thing?  You've paid me more compliments tonight than I got in the
last five or six years!"

   "Why do you have to resist so much?" he asked.

   "I thought you wanted some deeper relationship," she moaned.

   "I do," he said softly.  "But I can't get there if we're going to go be
apart in our rooms."

   "We're supposed to be talking ...  not forming a relationship," she
whined.

   "Isn't that what Bob had in mind?" asked Roger.  "He wants is couples to
have real relationships, based on things other than just sex."

   "But sex is all I can think about right now!"

   "OK," he said.  "Me too, to be honest with you.  But like I said, we're
adults.  If we can't handle this, how in the world can we expect the kids
we teach to handle things?"

   "You have to promise not to make love to me," she said.

   "I already told you I don't think we're ready for that yet," he said.

   "I know, but that's not what my body is telling me.  If we stay here ...
alone together, I know I'm going to want to ...  do things." She looked at
him steadily.  "And I don't want to do things."

   "Yes you do," he said gently.  "We're being honest with each other ...
remember?"

   "You know what I meant," she said stubbornly.

   "OK, I promise not to make love with you," he said.

   ===================================

   To give them both their due, they tried to talk.  There was only one
chair in the room, and she was in that, so Roger sat, and then lay on his
side, on the bed.  They tried to talk about anything but sex, but soon Jane
found herself up, and pacing.  Somehow she sat on the bed, next to him, and
the next thing she knew, they were kissing.  She couldn't even remember
whether she kissed him, or he pulled her down.  The kiss exploded in her
and, without breaking contact, she lay down next to him.  It was a long
kiss.

   When, at last, he pulled away, she opened her eyes.

   "We weren't supposed to do that," she said, breathing deeply.

   "What did you think about while we were kissing," he asked, ignoring
her.

   "Your lips," she said simply.

   "Not your father?" he asked softly.  "Not Jed?"

   "No," she said, and tears came to her eyes.

   He kissed her again, and she gave up.  His question had made it clear to
her that she wanted him more than the other men in her life, or in her
fantasies.  That thought weakened her completely.  She didn't think about
the possibility that she was just so horny that it was clouding her mind.
As she crushed her lips to his, she knew, in the dim recesses of her mind,
that she'd feel guilty ...  later ...  but she pushed that thought away,
and concentrated on the kiss.  She felt his five o'clock shadow, something
she'd never experienced before.  She kissed him the way Paul had kissed
her, using his tongue.  Jed had never kissed her like that, even when
they'd made love.  Jed had always been methodical, doing the same things,
getting up when they were done, to go back to some kind of work.

   She could actually feel the yearning in Roger's kiss ...  the passion
that made his body seem to vibrate.  She wanted to be naked.

   When that kiss broke, she felt for him, feeling like a strumpet, sliding
her hand to the front of his pants, to feel his strength there.

   "Slow down," he whispered, kissing her neck.

   "No," she said.

   "We're not going to make love," he said.

   "I changed my mind."

   "Tomorrow night," he said.  "You need some time to think."

   "I don't want to think," she moaned.  "I want to feel this." Her hand
squeezed.

   "I'll give you an orgasm, but not with that," he said into her ear.

   "You're not a man ...  you're a beast," she whined.

   "If you still want me tomorrow night," he said, "then we'll talk about
it."

   "I don't want to talk," she groaned.  "I want THIS!" She squeezed again,
harder.

   "Take off your clothes," he whispered.

   She thought she'd worn him down.  Once she'd given up on her own
resistance, she'd left it without a care, just like when Paul had seduced
her.  Now, with no shame, she bared her body to this new man, this man who
inflamed her so much ...  who she thought about as she kissed him.  She lay
before him, unconcerned about her tiny breasts, seeing the lust in his eyes
as he looked at them.  She knew her nipples were long and spiked, like they
always were, but she wasn't ashamed of them now.  Her hand drifted to the
fluff of brown hair above her slit, unable, now that her passion had been
let loose, to keep from feeling something there.

   She expected him to disrobe, and was eager to see him do that.  She was
astonished when, instead of doing so, he moved, getting on his hands and
knees between her legs.

   "I've always wanted to do this," he panted.

   Then, he leaned down and his lips fastened to her pussy lips and sucked.

   Jane saw stars as Roger did to her, what she'd seen her father doing to
her mother, so long ago.  When his teeth found her clit, she jerked her
hips upward so hard that he lost contact, and his face burrowed between her
legs to get it into his mouth again.

   Her wail of appreciation told him she was having an orgasm, and he
pressed his face to her pussy harder, fighting her natural tendency to
squirm and buck and thrust.  She felt his hands grip her buttocks and she
wailed again as the feelings coursed through her body.

   She sobbed, a combination of laugh, cry and the inability to get enough
breath to do either, and he stopped, to kiss his way up her belly to those
stiff nipples.  Paul had sucked at those, so she knew what to expect when
his mouth closed over one.  She mewled and arched her back, gasping in
relief as his groin ground into hers, even though his pants were in the
way.

   "Fuck me," she whined, electrified by her use of the words she'd never
spoken before in her life.

   "No," he said, switching to the other nipple.

   "Please," she begged.

   Instead, he went back to her pussy, and gave her two more orgasms before
he pulled his mouth away from her sloppy, slippery pussy lips.  She lay,
gasping for breath, weak now.  His eyes were round, and looked wild.

   "Take your clothes off," she said, her voice husky.

   "Tomorrow," he gasped.  "We have to wait until tomorrow." He wiped his
mouth with the back of her hand.

   "I'll suck it for you," she panted, astonished again.  She never talked
like this ...  never said things like she'd said in the last half hour.

   "I'd love that," he panted.  "But I can barely control myself right
now."

   "Then don't," she said, thrusting her hips up off the bed.

   "I promised."

   "I release you from your promise," she panted.

   "Tomorrow," he said doggedly.  "Tomorrow, you can release me from my
promise."

   Jane, perhaps because three orgasms had taken the edge off, realized
that, while she wanted to go on ...  to spend all night with him ...  he
was trying so hard that he had to have some need ...  a need she didn't
understand ...  but that she needed to honor.  She knew this was important
to him, because she knew it was important to her too.  She wasn't a slut,
yet she had begged a man she barely knew to fuck her.  That was her want,
she realized ...  not her need.  He had fulfilled her need, though not the
way she'd anticipated.  His want was strong.  She could see that, but his
need was stronger.

   She could wait until tomorrow.  How she felt now was crystal clear in
her mind.  She WOULD have him tomorrow.  She felt a pang of loss as she
realized there was no Jed any more ...  that she would lose her family over
this ...  but seeing Roger standing there, his pants bulging with his own
want, and knowing that he cared enough about her to honor a promise she
didn't even want him to keep ...  That reached deeper into her than just
her desire for another orgasm.

   "If I didn't fall in love with you at first sight," she said, lying her
hand on her stomach.  "I think this did it for me."

   "We'll talk about that tomorrow too," he said, stepping back.

   "You're going to go masturbate, aren't you?" she asked, feeling more
bold than she'd ever felt in her life.

   "Yes," he said simply.

   "Do it here ...  for me," she said.

   "That's not a good idea," he said.

   "I promise I'll only watch.  You kept your promise.  I'll keep mine,"
she said, closing her legs.

   "Can you keep that promise?" he asked.  He'd been amazed at her passion.

   "Do you promise to make love to me tomorrow?" she countered.

   "I promise to talk to you about that," he said.  "Of course I want to,
but this is going too fast."

   "I know how I'm going to feel tomorrow," she said.

   "I'll believe it in the morning ...  at breakfast," he insisted.

   "Just do it for me.  Are you really hard for me?" she asked, playing the
vamp, and loving the feeling of being able to say that.

   "I'm dying for you," he panted.

   "I won't touch you," she urged.  "I won't even get off the bed."

   She was elated to see him unzip his pants.  He left them on, but pulled
his penis and balls out of the fly.  His hand covered his stalk, so she
couldn't really see what it looked like, but she felt the need to touch
herself too, and did so.

   "It is hard for me," she cooed, stroking her clitty.  Her eyes glittered
as he began stroking himself.  "It will be hard for me tomorrow too, won't
it?" she asked, sliding a finger into her pussy.

   "Yes," he gasped.

   "And then you'll put it here," she said, jabbing her finger deep into
herself.  "And I'll get to feel it all hard inside me."

   "Yes," he panted, stroking faster.

   "Will you cum in me, Roger?" she asked, spreading her legs again,
opening herself wide.  She felt the urge to be tawdry, and pulled her
finger out.  She used two fingers of each hand to spread herself apart,
exposing her inner pinkness to his eyes.  "Will you cum in my pussy
tomorrow, when you make love to me, Roger?"

   "Yessss," he groaned, and a burst of semen shot from the tip of his
penis.  She had nothing to compare it to, never having seen a man cum
before.  He was past his prime, and the three shots he produced only went a
foot of so in the air, to land wetly on the bed spread beside her thigh.

   As far as she was concerned, it was one of the most beautiful things
she'd ever seen.

   =============================

   It was more awkward for Roger than it was for Jane, after he had
finished.  He felt foolish, somehow, while he stuffed his limp penis back
into his pants and zipped up.  She lay there, unashamed, glorious in her
nakedness, just looking at him.

   "You could just stay here," she said.  "It will be tomorrow in a few
hours."

   He almost groaned.  She was much more like his fantasy, than he was
hers. She looked young, and her wanton posture and speech had been that of
a fresh young girl, not of a grown woman.  He'd had fun.  There was no
doubt about that, but he really wanted there to be something beyond the
sex, which surprised him more than he would have imagined.  In his
fantasies, about the young girls, all there was, was sex.  Just as her
fantasy was now frayed around the edges, so too, was his.

   "I'll see you at breakfast," he said.  "I'd tell you that I think I love
you too, but it's still to early for that." He smiled crookedly.

   "OK," she said.

   =============================

   When he left, she lay there, feeling more relaxed than she had in a long
time.  When she moved her hand, it ran into his semen, on the bedspread,
beside her.  She didn't recoil, but lifted sperm-coated fingertips, to peer
at the unfamiliar fluid.  She sniffed it and, astonishing herself even
further, tasted it too.  The musky scent translated to the taste.  It was a
little bitter, but it wasn't bad.  She was reminded of the difference in
the taste of coffee, freshly brewed, and coffee that had been sitting in
the teacher's lounge all morning.  If she wanted coffee badly enough, the
bitter taste didn't bother her a bit.

   She scooped up more, rubbing it into the bed spread in the process, but
getting two fingers well covered.

   Then, with those two fingers, she masturbated herself to another orgasm.

   As she drifted off to sleep, her stomach growled.  She didn't care.  She
felt too good to get up.

   ============================

   Roger walked around for a while, stopping by the bar to get a sandwich.
He felt like everyone was looking at him.  He wanted to go back to her
room. He wanted to make love with her.  It had taken every shred of self
control not to do it with her, but he knew, somehow, that it was the right
choice.  She had acted so completely different, a Jekyl and Hyde kind of
difference, almost.  She needed time to think.  If, as she insisted, she'd
still want him in the morning, he'd give in to speeding things up.  This
was the closest thing he'd come, since Elizabeth had died, to a
relationship that felt right somehow.  He couldn't explain it.  Maybe there
WAS such a thing as love at first sight.

   He'd always thought you had to fall in love BEFORE there was sex.  He
knew he liked this woman.  He knew she was unhappy.  He felt the urge to
make her happy.  Was that love?  It wasn't like what he'd felt for
Elizabeth.  But they'd been together a long time.  He tried to remember how
he felt about Elizabeth back in the beginning.

   All he could remember was the first few times they'd had sex.

   ===========================

   Chapter Thirteen - Jeff and Roberta

   The normalcy of being seated, and giving the waitress their drink order
settled Roberta, at least a little.  She couldn't believe what had
happened. Even more, she couldn't believe how she felt about it.  She was
hungry, but what she really wanted, right now, was Jeff's body, pinning her
to the bed in her room.  She knew she should feel like a slut, or bad for
cheating, but she felt neither.  All she felt was like she had been let out
of prison, and was able to breath fresh air.

   "You OK?" he asked, when she had sat silently for so long.

   "I'm actually wonderful," she said.  "How about you?"

   "I don't know how to feel," he said, looking down.

   "I think I know what you mean," she said.  "I know how I'm SUPPOSED to
be feeling right now, but I don't feel that way at all."

   "What do you mean?" he asked.

   "I'm not sorry," she said.  "Not at all."

   "Wow," he said.  "I think I feel a little bad, but not as bad as I
should ...  you know?"

   "Yes," she said, picking up her water glass.  "I've suspected for a long
time that I married the wrong man, for the wrong reasons.  This kind of
confirms that for me."

   "Really?" he asked, clearly astonished.  "Are you saying you're ready to
throw in the towel?"

   "I may as well," she said.  "He doesn't make me feel like that.  I don't
know if he ever did."

   "Yes," said Jeff, "but sex isn't all there is."

   "I know that, but it should be just as good with your husband as it is
with a complete stranger ...  don't you think?"

   "I don't know what to think.  I've been expecting Melanie to file for
divorce for over a year.  I never thought of leaving her, because I always
expected her to leave me."

   "I'm not asking you for anything," said Roberta.  "I wouldn't ask you to
leave her."

   "Are you going to leave your husband?" he asked.

   The waitress arrived to take their order, and that gave Roberta time to
think.  She hadn't thought that far ahead.  She had just submerged herself
in Jeff's physical embrace, like a woman dying of thirst, who finds a pool
of clear, cool water.  She thought about Phillip, and wondered what he was
doing.  Probably working.  He hadn't even kissed her goodbye when she left.
He had just looked up from the computer and waved and said "Have fun."
Well, she had done that, she thought wryly to herself.  How would Phillip
react if he knew?  Would he even care?

   She realized Jeff had already given the waitress his order, and that
they were both waiting for her to speak.

   "Pick something for me," she said.

   She went back to thinking about Phillip.  Could she leave him?  She had
no idea.  She knew he'd resist that ...  strenuously.  But she also thought
it was just as likely that he'd resist because of pride, as it was because
he wouldn't actually want her to go.  There was the scent of perfume ... 
strange perfume ...  that she sometimes smelled on his shirts, when she
laundered them.  There was that too.  If the woman who was wearing that
perfume hadn't rubbed up against his shirt, she was wearing so much perfume
that no one would be able to stand anywhere near her without coughing.

   She realized that the waitress had left, and looked at Jeff, who was
staring at her.  She tried to remember the last time she and Phillip had
made love.  It had been a Sunday.  She knew that because the stock markets
were closed, and there was nothing for him to look up on the computer. 
He'd actually mentioned that during their foreplay, such as that had been.

   Jeff was still just looking at her.  What was he thinking?

   "What are you thinking right now?" she asked, on impulse.

   "I'm thinking about how I can explain to Melanie what happened," he
said.

   "Do you have to?"

   "Yes," he said.  "I owe her that.  At least I think I do.  I've never
done this before."

   "Are YOU sorry?" she asked.

   He blinked.  "I don't know how to answer that," he said.  "Why?  What
are you thinking?"

   "Are you sure you want to know?" she asked, looking closely at him.

   "Yes," he said, but there was a tinge of doubt in his voice.

   "I'll tell you," she said.  "But I'm only telling you this because we're
supposed to tell each other the truth.  I'm not trying to break you and
your wife up."

   "Go on," he said, leaning forward.

   "I'm thinking about how, if I have no remorse at all for cheating on
Phillip, that there's nothing left there to cheat on," she said.  "It's
already over, whether I leave him or not.  I haven't thought about that
yet. All I can think about right now is what I want to do with you when
we're done here."

   "Really?" His eyes widened.

   "I don't want to sleep alone tonight," she said softly.  "But I will if
you want to try to save things with your wife."

   "You know this is crazy," he said.

   She nodded.  "I know.  I also know what I felt back in that room.  I
want to feel that way again ...  and again ..." She shrugged.

   "What did you do with Roberta?" he asked, smiling.  "You look just like
her, but you have to be her twin sister or something."

   She kicked off her shoe and reached out to slide it up his leg.

   "You might see her later tonight," she said, her voice low.  He jerked
as he felt her foot.  "But I doubt it," she added.

   Then, suddenly, neither of them knew what to say.  They sat, just
looking at each other, until the waitress brought their food.  He had
ordered her lasagna, which she loved, but couldn't make to suit her own
tastes.

   "Do you have oysters on the half shell?" asked Jeff, as the waitress set
down his plate.

   "Yes sir," she said brightly.  "Flown in fresh daily."

   "Bring me a dozen, please," he said, smiling up at her.

   Roberta felt her pussy dampen.

   ===================================

   They ate quickly and efficiently, and they left, hand-in-hand, no longer
caring who saw them.  They went straight to her room and, without words,
stripped again.  They made love until she couldn't revive him, no matter
what she did.  Then, arms entangled, they talked, until sleep claimed Jeff.
Roberta studied his face as it went slack in sleep.  Her whirling thoughts
kept her awake for another half hour or so, and she finally fell asleep.

   In the morning, she woke first, and woke him, to drag him into the
bathroom.  She adjusted the water and stroked him lovingly, all over, as he
reciprocated.  They tried to have sex in the shower, but it didn't work
well and, still wet, she took him back to bed.  She felt like she must have
gained five pounds, just due to his strong spurts inside her, since dinner
the night before.  She wondered if he'd made her pregnant.  As she kissed
his panting lips, she realized she didn't care.  No ...  that wasn't true,
she realized.  She hoped he had.  If nothing else happened after this week,
at least she'd have a little piece of him to love when she had his baby.

   Then, unhurried, they went to breakfast, hand-in-hand.

   =============================

   Chapter Thirteen - Jeff and Roberta

   The normalcy of being seated, and giving the waitress their drink order
settled Roberta, at least a little.  She couldn't believe what had
happened. Even more, she couldn't believe how she felt about it.  She was
hungry, but what she really wanted, right now, was Jeff's body, pinning her
to the bed in her room.  She knew she should feel like a slut, or bad for
cheating, but she felt neither.  All she felt was like she had been let out
of prison, and was able to breath fresh air.

   "You OK?" he asked, when she had sat silently for so long.

   "I'm actually wonderful," she said.  "How about you?"

   "I don't know how to feel," he said, looking down.

   "I think I know what you mean," she said.  "I know how I'm SUPPOSED to
be feeling right now, but I don't feel that way at all."

   "What do you mean?" he asked.

   "I'm not sorry," she said.  "Not at all."

   "Wow," he said.  "I think I feel a little bad, but not as bad as I
should ...  you know?"

   "Yes," she said, picking up her water glass.  "I've suspected for a long
time that I married the wrong man, for the wrong reasons.  This kind of
confirms that for me."

   "Really?" he asked, clearly astonished.  "Are you saying you're ready to
throw in the towel?"

   "I may as well," she said.  "He doesn't make me feel like that.  I don't
know if he ever did."

   "Yes," said Jeff, "but sex isn't all there is."

   "I know that, but it should be just as good with your husband as it is
with a complete stranger ...  don't you think?"

   "I don't know what to think.  I've been expecting Melanie to file for
divorce for over a year.  I never thought of leaving her, because I always
expected her to leave me."

   "I'm not asking you for anything," said Roberta.  "I wouldn't ask you to
leave her."

   "Are you going to leave your husband?" he asked.

   The waitress arrived to take their order, and that gave Roberta time to
think.  She hadn't thought that far ahead.  She had just submerged herself
in Jeff's physical embrace, like a woman dying of thirst, who finds a pool
of clear, cool water.  She thought about Phillip, and wondered what he was
doing.  Probably working.  He hadn't even kissed her goodbye when she left.
He had just looked up from the computer and waved and said "Have fun."
Well, she had done that, she thought wryly to herself.  How would Phillip
react if he knew?  Would he even care?

   She realized Jeff had already given the waitress his order, and that
they were both waiting for her to speak.

   "Pick something for me," she said.

   She went back to thinking about Phillip.  Could she leave him?  She had
no idea.  She knew he'd resist that ...  strenuously.  But she also thought
it was just as likely that he'd resist because of pride, as it was because
he wouldn't actually want her to go.  There was the scent of perfume ... 
strange perfume ...  that she sometimes smelled on his shirts, when she
laundered them.  There was that too.  If the woman who was wearing that
perfume hadn't rubbed up against his shirt, she was wearing so much perfume
that no one would be able to stand anywhere near her without coughing.

   She realized that the waitress had left, and looked at Jeff, who was
staring at her.  She tried to remember the last time she and Phillip had
made love.  It had been a Sunday.  She knew that because the stock markets
were closed, and there was nothing for him to look up on the computer. 
He'd actually mentioned that during their foreplay, such as that had been.

   Jeff was still just looking at her.  What was he thinking?

   "What are you thinking right now?" she asked, on impulse.

   "I'm thinking about how I can explain to Melanie what happened," he
said.

   "Do you have to?"

   "Yes," he said.  "I owe her that.  At least I think I do.  I've never
done this before."

   "Are YOU sorry?" she asked.

   He blinked.  "I don't know how to answer that," he said.  "Why?  What
are you thinking?"

   "Are you sure you want to know?" she asked, looking closely at him.

   "Yes," he said, but there was a tinge of doubt in his voice.

   "I'll tell you," she said.  "But I'm only telling you this because we're
supposed to tell each other the truth.  I'm not trying to break you and
your wife up."

   "Go on," he said, leaning forward.

   "I'm thinking about how, if I have no remorse at all for cheating on
Phillip, that there's nothing left there to cheat on," she said.  "It's
already over, whether I leave him or not.  I haven't thought about that
yet. All I can think about right now is what I want to do with you when
we're done here."

   "Really?" His eyes widened.

   "I don't want to sleep alone tonight," she said softly.  "But I will if
you want to try to save things with your wife."

   "You know this is crazy," he said.

   She nodded.  "I know.  I also know what I felt back in that room.  I
want to feel that way again ...  and again ..." She shrugged.

   "What did you do with Roberta?" he asked, smiling.  "You look just like
her, but you have to be her twin sister or something."

   She kicked off her shoe and reached out to slide it up his leg.

   "You might see her later tonight," she said, her voice low.  He jerked
as he felt her foot.  "But I doubt it," she added.

   Then, suddenly, neither of them knew what to say.  They sat, just
looking at each other, until the waitress brought their food.  He had
ordered her lasagna, which she loved, but couldn't make to suit her own
tastes.

   "Do you have oysters on the half shell?" asked Jeff, as the waitress set
down his plate.

   "Yes sir," she said brightly.  "Flown in fresh daily."

   "Bring me a dozen, please," he said, smiling up at her.

   Roberta felt her pussy dampen.

   ===================================

   They ate quickly and efficiently, and they left, hand-in-hand, no longer
caring who saw them.  They went straight to her room and, without words,
stripped again.  They made love until she couldn't revive him, no matter
what she did.  Then, arms entangled, they talked, until sleep claimed Jeff.
Roberta studied his face as it went slack in sleep.  Her whirling thoughts
kept her awake for another half hour or so, and she finally fell asleep.

   In the morning, she woke first, and woke him, to drag him into the
bathroom.  She adjusted the water and stroked him lovingly, all over, as he
reciprocated.  They tried to have sex in the shower, but it didn't work
well and, still wet, she took him back to bed.  She felt like she must have
gained five pounds, just due to his strong spurts inside her, since dinner
the night before.  She wondered if he'd made her pregnant.  As she kissed
his panting lips, she realized she didn't care.  No ...  that wasn't true,
she realized.  She hoped he had.  If nothing else happened after this week,
at least she'd have a little piece of him to love when she had his baby.

   Then, unhurried, they went to breakfast, hand-in-hand.

   =============================

   Chapter Fourteen - Chuck and Tiffany

   Tiffany knocked on Chuck's door, and he opened it, dressed in a light
shirt and slacks.  She had put on the sexiest thing she'd brought with her,
which was a blouse with a deep "V" neck.  She'd left her bra off, even
though she knew her heavy breasts would bounce all around.  They were just
going to the dining room, and then ...  She didn't know what would happen
then, but she knew he liked looking at her breasts, and she liked having
him look, now, so she just did it.  Her legs were bare under the tan skirt
she was wearing, and she had on sandals.

   "I'm ready," he said.

   "Me too," she said, meaning something completely different.  He missed
it, though, and she took his hand.

   "You look good," he said.

   "Of course I do," she said, smiling.  "You're fairly handsome yourself."

   "Of course I am," he quipped.

   =============================

   "This has gotten a little strange," said Chuck, over dinner.

   "It's certainly turned out differently than I thought it would," said
Tiffany.

   "How so?" he asked, just to keep her talking.

   "I did not come here thinking about sex," she said calmly.  "I didn't
come here to meet an interesting man, though I'm not complaining.  I
thought I was coming here to get some information that would do me some
good in school.  Instead, I've learned something about myself."

   "What's that?" he asked.

   "I can still feel like a horny seventeen year old cheerleader," she
said, smiling.  "I never would have admitted that before yesterday." She
went on.  "Before yesterday, I wouldn't have given you a chance," she said.
"I'm used to keeping men at arms length, not chasing after them."

   "And that's a good thing?" he asked.

   "It isn't good or bad.  It's just new.  We're both adults," she said. 
"We should be able to do whatever we want to do in this situation."

   "Why do you think your boyfriend stayed in college, instead of coming
with you?" asked Chuck.

   "I don't know," she said.  "I don't want to think about that right now."

   "Don't you think it's important to figure out why one relationship
failed, before you start another one?" he insisted.

   "OK, he didn't love me," she said, frowning.

   "But you had sex with him anyway," suggested Chuck.

   "I thought we were falling in love," she complained.  "Isn't sex part of
that?"

   "Tiffany," he said patiently, "think about that.  Answer this.  When was
the first time you had sex with him?"

   "I don't remember," she said crossly.

   "What date?" he insisted.  "First?  Second?  Fifth?"

   "Second," she said, sullenly.  "He got me drunk at a Frat party."

   "And you thought he loved you," said Chuck.

   Tiffany thought about shouting at him.  Why did he have to bring all
this up?  She knew she'd made a mistake.  She knew now that she'd been
played by the handsome young man who was older, and had made her feel so
grown up.  She'd thought, as the years went on and on, that they HAD fallen
in love.  Then, when she left, and he obviously hadn't missed her as much
as she'd missed him, her world began to darken.  As her year of teaching
went on, and she got busy, she blamed it all on him.

   "Do you still love him ...  miss him?" asked Chuck, maddeningly.

   "You are SO not getting into my panties, Mister," she snarled.

   "Answer the question, Tiffany," he said.  "Be honest with yourself ...
and me."

   "Why do you even care?" she asked, almost loudly.

   "Because I like you," he said.

   "What does liking me have to do with him?" she asked.

   "Look," he said patiently.  "You hopped into bed with him." He stopped
when an angry scowl came onto her face.  "OK, he got you drunk, but the
point is that you started your relationship with him based on sex.  Maybe
there was more, later, but maybe not too.  It didn't last.  Whatever was
there wasn't strong enough to overcome what happened.  All I'm saying is
that I don't want that to happen with us ...  if there can even BE an us."

   "That's it?" Her voice went up two octaves.  "You won't go to bed with
me because you want to fall in love first?!"

   "Can you think of a better plan?" he asked, not flinching.

   Tiffany sat there, looking at him.  That was exactly what she'd thought,
all the way through High School.  Find a man ...  fall in love ...  THEN
give up your virginity.  Then, after that first, wild night, at the party,
when her body had screamed out how wonderful it felt ...  all that had,
somehow, slipped away.

   "I don't like you any more," she said.

   "You want me to leave?" he asked.

   "Of course not, you idiot," she snarled.

   "Do you understand what I'm trying to say?" he asked.

   "Yes." She sighed heavily.  "That doesn't mean I agree with you,
though." She cursed herself for lying to him.  She did, actually, agree
with him, now that she thought about it.

   "I'm sorry," he said, sounding sorry.  He'd believed her.  "But that's
who I really am, down deep.  As much as you're my perfect fantasy, I don't
want to ruin it by having meaningless sex." He blinked.  "I know I'm crazy,
but I also know that if we just tumbled into bed, my fantasy would die, and
that's really all I have."

   "You're not crazy," said Tiffany, a little stiffly.  "With that line,
you could get all the meaningless sex any man could want.  Most women would
love to hear you say things like that before taking them to bed."

   "But not you." He sounded profoundly sad.

   "Don't put words in my mouth," she snapped.

   They ate in silence for a while.

   "So," he finally said.  "What happens now?"

   Tiffany looked up at him.  "As difficult as it is for me to believe that
a man could say something insightful and intelligent, I think you may have
come close to that," she said.  "I need to think about things for a while."

   "Alone," he suggested.

   "Yes, alone!" she said sharply.  She was sorry immediately, because she
knew she was just punishing him for trying to talk sense to her.  She
wondered how she'd gotten so jaded ...  where the cruel streak had come
from that she'd just drawn on.  The look on his face, though, penetrated
her to the core.  She'd sensed before that he was one of those "special
men", but now it was clear.  She couldn't let her passion, or her anger, or
anything else ruin the possibility that something good might come of all
this.

   "However," she said, stridently.  He had looked away, and his eyes came
back to hers.  "I want to talk more at breakfast."

   His smile made her belly warm.

   "Deal," he said, his hand twitching, as if he wanted to reach for her.

   ===============================

   After dinner, she walked him to his room.

   "One kiss couldn't hurt that much ...  could it?" she asked, taking his
hand.

   "You really have no idea how I feel right now ...  do you?" he asked in
return.

   She raised an eyebrow.

   "I'm with the woman of my dreams ...  literally.  She seems to be
actually interested in me." There was wonder in his voice.  "I'm insane
enough to have turned that woman down, and now she wants to kiss me." His
hand trembled in hers.

   "You asked me to think about what you said," said Tiffany, her voice
low. "I'm going to do that.  All I'm asking for is one, little kiss.  I
just want you to have something to think about too ...  that's all."

   "Oh," he laughed.  It was hysterical laughter, and it exploded out of
his mouth.  "I have plenty to think about ...  believe me!"

   "I'm going to kiss you now, Chuck," she said softly.  "I'm not the woman
of your dreams.  I'm just a woman named Tiffany.  After I kiss you, you're
going to your room, and I'm going to mine.  I had a good time today ... 
mostly," she smiled, "and that's all this kiss is for ...  to thank you for
a good time ...  mostly."

   She put her arms around him, in part because she was afraid he might
bolt.  Her surprise, when his arms crushed her to him, and she felt his
hungry lips on hers, almost scared her.  She felt her breasts flatten
against his chest, and smelled the after shave he'd put on.  He must have
shaved before supper, she thought to herself, for his cheeks and chin to be
this smooth.  One of his hands slid down her back, almost to her buttocks.
As she kissed him back, her passion flaming again, she wished his hand
would keep going, but it didn't.  She could feel the strength in his
embrace ...  the desire for her that transmitted itself through his touch.
She knew without a doubt that he wanted her, and that made her feel like
something precious, because he was denying himself that pleasure.  Her
tongue probed for his, darting between his lips, and she pushed at his
chest.  His grip loosened very slowly, as they stared into each other's
eyes.  She pushed again, more to separate herself from him, than to
separate him from her.  She wanted him badly, but now, understanding how he
felt, she knew too that it wouldn't work.  Not now.

   "Thank you," she whispered.

   She meant much more than he knew.

   =================================

   Chapter Fifteen - Day Two

   They all saw each other at breakfast, but only four of them sat
together.

   Roberta and Jeff got there first, and were already eating when Roberta
saw Jane walk in alone.  She looked their way, and Roberta waved her over.

   "Is Roger going to join you?" she asked.

   "Yes," said Jane, who seemed much calmer than she had the last time
they'd seen her, going into Roger's room.

   "Do you want to be alone with him?" asked Roberta.

   "It's not necessary," said Jane.  "We settled things last night, I
think."

   "Mmmm, sounds yummy," said Roberta.  She flushed.  "I'm sorry.  I
shouldn't have said that.  I have no idea what came over me.  That was
terrible."

   "You two have gone head over heels for each other, haven't you?" asked
Jane, sitting down.

   Roberta flushed even harder.  "Is it really that obvious?" Jeff shifted
in his seat, but didn't say anything.

   Jane nodded, but smiled.  "I understand how you feel.  I'm a completely
different woman than I was yesterday morning." She looked around, looking
for Roger.  She saw Bob and Lori sitting in a booth.  Lori looked different
somehow.  She was wearing a plum colored skirt and a blouse that matched.
It gave her a whole new look.  She realized her face was different, too. 
She was animated, leaning forward toward Bob, but seemed relaxed ...  not
tense, like she'd been all the time previous to this.

   "Look at Lori," she said, nodding to the others.

   Both turned to look.  It was one of those moments when the person they
were looking at, happened to be looking around too, and noticed them ... 
noticing here.  Lori smiled nervously and waved tentatively.  All three
waved back.

   "Her too, apparently," said Roberta, turning back around.  "Who'd have
thought Bob would do something like that?"

   "She'd have a crush on anybody who paid any attention to her at all,"
said Jeff.  "Don't read too much into that."

   "Woody and Crystal are over there," said Roberta, looking at another
booth.

   They all turned to look at the couple, who were eating normally and
appeared to just be chatting.

   "Never happen," said Jeff.  "She's too tall."

   "How come you suddenly know everything?" asked Roberta, arching an
eyebrow.  "You didn't think anything would happen between us either."

   "Nothing was supposed to happen between us," he said.

   "Well it did," she shot back.

   "Children, children," chided Jane.

   "There's Roger," said Jeff, waving.

   Roger walked over to them.

   "It's tomorrow," said Jane, promptly.

   "I see," said Roger, somewhat mysteriously, from the point of view of
the other couple present.

   "I believe we have a date tonight," said Jane.

   "I see," he said again, smiling.

   "You want to eat with them?" asked Jane, looking at Roger, but obviously
referring to Roberta and Jeff.

   "I believe I do," he said.  "I don't think it would be a good idea for
you to get me alone before class."

   Roberta and Jeff watched in amazement as Jane's laughter tinkled.

   Roger sat down.  "I can't wait to see what Bob has for us today," he
said, as an ice breaker.

   "Have you ever wanted to skip school?" asked Roberta.  Jeff shot her a
nervous look.

   "Many times," said Roger, looking at the menu.  "But not for the same
reason you do." He smiled as she blushed.  "Besides, if things progressed
so rapidly after just one day of class, I wouldn't even think of missing
the next one."

   Now it was Jane who finally blushed.  The smile on her face was
beautiful, though, and all the others could see she was very pleased.

   "This is very strange," said Jeff, fiddling with his napkin.  "We're
sitting here ...  teachers ...  and we're acting like kids."

   "I don't care," said Roberta.  "I had a good time last night."

   "How good a time did you have?" asked Jane, her voice heavy with
innuendo.

   Roberta really didn't care.  "I had a better time than I did on my
honeymoon.  That's how good a time I had." She looked at Jane.  "How about
you?"

   Jane blushed at having her bluff called.  "I've never been on a
honeymoon.  I wouldn't know."

   "Looks like more than just us had a good time," commented Roger, looking
past Jane.  They all turned to see Tiffany and Chuck come in the door. 
Chuck was just pulling his hand away from Tiffany's, and it was clear she
wasn't letting go quickly.

   "You don't suppose this is some nefarious plot," said Roger,
"orchestrated by Bob, to turn us all into sex fiends, do you?"

   "I'll tell you this," said Roberta.  "If I ever meet a couple who needs
a little help with ...  things ...  I know who to send them to."

   "He's supposed to save marriages," said Jeff.  "Not break them up."

   "You might mention that to him when we get to class," said Jane.  She
smiled at Roger to show she didn't regret what had happened between them.

   Chuck and Tiffany walked over to them.

   "Good morning.  You guys want to join us?" asked Roberta.

   "No," said Tiffany, speaking for both of them.  "There's not really room
at this table, and we have things to talk about.  We just wanted to say hi,
but thanks for the invitation."

   "See you in class then," said Roberta.

   =================================

   When they sat down, Tiffany waited until the waitress had taken their
order.  She had been on her way to knock on Chuck's door again, this
morning, when he had opened it and walked out.  Neither of them said
anything, but when she took his hand, his fingers interlaced with hers as
they walked to the dining room.

   She had done a lot of thinking last night, as she lay in her bed, unable
to get to sleep.  Even masturbating hadn't helped.  She'd been looking for
a man like Chuck all her life, even if she hadn't known it until she met
him.  Now, having met him, and feeling like she did, so soon after meeting
him, she was scared.  The real thing couldn't just happen like that ... 
could it?  You didn't just meet the man of your dreams, who considered you
to be the woman of HIS dreams ...  by accident ...  at a seminar gone wrong
...  did you?  If it was too good to be true ...  then it probably wasn't
true.  Was he just slick?  Was he just playing her, like her boyfriend had?
Did he just have a different ploy ...  acting like the good guy, who cares
about you, so your defenses will be down?

   What she'd finally decided was that he'd had the chance to get what a
man like that would want.  She'd been flaunting it at him ...  had made it
clear he could have it.  But he'd turned away.  She knew beyond a shadow of
a doubt that he wanted her.  His penis told her that all by itself.

   She wondered about her own behavior too.  She wasn't a slut.  She didn't
just hop into bed with anyone.  Yet she had acted the slut with him.  When
he'd accused her of having a cruel streak, and teasing him because of it,
she had known he was right, in a way.  She HAD been teasing him,
intentionally, trying to control him with her body.  That bothered her,
because, like him, she didn't really want a meaningless, shallow
relationship.

   It wasn't until she decided she had the opportunity of a lifetime here,
that she was finally able to go to sleep.

   This morning, as she dressed, her doubts had returned, though.  They
whispered at her that she couldn't be happy ...  that she was destined to
keep searching.

   His fingers, interlacing with hers, as they walked to the dining room,
were seductive in a physical way.  She loved the feeling of his fingers,
casually touching her in a way that felt amazingly intimate.  But then when
they walked into the dining room, he pulled away, like he was ashamed to be
seen holding her hand.

   Finally, after they were seated, she forced the issue, just to get it
over with.

   "If I said all I wanted was a hot fling, and nothing more ...  could you
do that?" she asked suddenly.

   "No," he said instantly.  "Not with you.  Maybe with some other woman,
but not you."

   "So what you want from me is commitment," she said.

   "If that works out, I'd be a very happy man," he said.

   "How can you know that?" she asked.  "We hardly know each other."

   "I thought about that last night," he admitted.  "I wanted Cheryl - she
was the cheerleader - to love me ...  to choose me over all the other boys.
When she performed, and I was sitting on the front row, she'd look at me
and smile, and shake her body, and I wanted to believe it was all for me.
But it wasn't.  It wasn't for me at all.  When you acted like you did ...
when you took off your bikini top ...  it was like that."

   "But that WAS for you," said Tiffany.

   "Was it?" he asked.

   "Of course it was!" she hissed.  "Do you think I go around showing men
my breasts all the time?"

   "You seemed awfully comfortable, like it was pretty routine." He
frowned.

   "Well you're wrong about that!" she snapped.  "Other than my boyfriend,
you're the only man in the world who's seen them like that!"

   "Oh," he said, sounding ashamed.  He WAS ashamed.  He'd put her in a
stereotyped box again.

   "Look," she said, fidgeting in her seat.  "I admit I don't have all that
much experience with men, and that it's been a long time since ...  well
... anyway, I admit I'm probably acting a little strange, for me, anyway,
but you have a lot to do with that."

   He looked at her intently.  "I do?"

   "When will you get it through your thick head that I like you?" she
asked, reaching for his hand.  He jerked, like he was going to pull it away
again, but didn't.

   "So it's not just sex?  Not just a fling?" he asked.

   "I don't KNOW what it is," she said, squeezing his fingers.  "But I know
I don't want it to go away, and not just because I'm so ...  horny.  I
can't really explain how I feel right now.  Maybe it's a little like
searching for gold nuggets.  You get excited whenever something glints in
the sunlight.  You want to lean down and pick it up.  You want to hope it's
what you're looking for."

   "I know that feeling," he said.

   "But how do you tell if it's only fool's gold ...  or the real thing?"
she asked tensely.

   "In the old days, miners used to bite gold, to see if it was real," he
said, trying to lessen the tension.

   "You wouldn't let me bite you last night," she said.

   "I'm nervous," he said.  His eyes sharpened.  "No, what I really am is
scared.  You scare me to death."

   "Me?" she squeaked.  "Why in the world would you be scared of me?"

   "Because I want you to be gold," he said.  "There.  I let it all hang
out.  I want you to be the one."

   "You want me to be your cheerleader." she said.

   "I want you to be so much more than my cheerleader," he said softly.  "I
can't explain how much more.  I've never found her, but, like you said, I
see something glinting, and I want it to be the real thing so badly that
I'm afraid to pick it up.  I'm afraid it won't actually be the genuine."

   "I can't give you some kind of guarantee," said Tiffany, feeling the
whole weight of his desire pressing all around her.

   "I know that," he said miserably.  "I can't tell you I'd be the right
guy for you either.  I want to be ...  desperately ...  but I don't know
how to be that man."

   "That's just because we don't know each other very well yet," she said.
"We just need more time."

   "We have a week," he said.  "That's not long."

   "Do you just want to drop the whole thing?" she asked, afraid of what
his answer would be.

   "No!" he said, sounding shocked.

   "Then let's use the rest of the week to get to know each other," she
said.  She was still holding his fingers.  She stroked one of his, with one
of hers.  "And please understand that I don't usually act like this, but I
like touching you.  I know you like looking at me.  It makes me feel good
when you do.  I like looking at you too.  Don't think I'm some kind of slut
just because I think about sex."

   "I don't think you're a slut!" he objected.

   "I gave you pretty good cause to think that yesterday," she said calmly.
"But I'm not.  You make me feel ...  different, somehow.  If I act that way
again, just remember I'm not trying to be a slut."

   "I was only trying to take it slow because I was afraid that would mess
things up between us," he said.

   "I understand that, even if I don't agree with you," she said.  "Maybe
it's just because it's been so long, but I miss that.  You're the first man
I've been attracted to that way in a long time."

   "I can't help being nervous about that," he said.  "I really don't have
all that much experience with women ...  that way."

   "Have you made love with more than one woman?" she asked.

   He blushed.  "Yes, I suppose I have, but it turned out to only be sex
... not love."

   "Even so," she said calmly.  "You have more experience with women than I
have with men."

   "Wow," he said, looking stunned.

   "That's why I reserve the right to see your penis again," she said.

   He blinked.  She took her hand away from his, finally, and began to eat.

   ===================================

   Woody and Crystal had rooms on opposite sides of the pool, and both left
them at the same time.  They met on the deck of the shallow end of the
pool.

   "My joints are sore," said Crystal, but she smiled.

   "I'd say I was sorry, but I had too good a time last night.  You going
to be OK?"

   "Oh, sure," she said.  "I should have done my flexibility exercises when
I got home, but I went to bed instead.  You wore me out."

   "I'll be more gentle with you in the future," he promised.

   "So ...  there is a future ...  for us?" she asked.

   He glanced at her and she noticed he had to look up.  That bothered her
for some reason.

   "I hope so," he said easily.  "You're a good date."

   "You didn't act like it last night," she said.

   "I'm sorry," he said, frowning.  "I was trying to be the perfect
gentleman."

   "Is that why you didn't kiss me good night?" she asked.

   "I DID kiss you good night," he said.  He reached for her hand and
pulled it to his lips, kissing her fingertips again.  She felt a tingle
race through her at that simple touch.

   "That's how you kiss a woman you have the hots for?" she asked, smiling.

   "On a first date ...  sure," he said.  "I wouldn't want you to think I
was a cad, who was only interested in your body."

   "I expected you to try to kiss me," said Crystal.  "I wasn't going to
let you."

   "See?" he beamed.

   "But then I was unhappy because you didn't try," she said, still
smiling. She liked being able to talk to a man this way.

   She was surprised beyond measure when he stopped, took her elbow, spun
her toward him, and then reached up to grasp her head lightly with both
hands.  She felt him pulling her face to his, unbelieving, and, with her
eyes wide open, she saw his close as his lips touched hers.  It was
strange, because his grip on her head was strong.  But his lips were soft
and warm, almost fluid, as they more than brushed, but didn't mash against
hers.  It was an astonishingly tender and intimate kiss.  He held her there
just long enough for her eyes to close, and for her to take a long breath
through her nose, preparing to kiss him back, and then pulled away.

   "That's what I should have done?" he asked.

   Crystal realized she must be blushing, because her face and throat felt
hot.  She hadn't been kissed like that for as long as she could remember.
She let her breath out in a rush, and stood up straight.

   "You're a dangerous man, Woody Buckholtz."

   "Naw," he said carelessly.  "I'm fully trustworthy.  I only ambush a
woman once, usually in broad daylight, where everyone can come to her aid.
That's already over, so you're safe now."

   "Are we going out again tonight?" she asked.

   "I don't know," he said.  "Why do you ask?"

   "I might let you kiss me good night if we do," she said.

   "We're definitely going out again tonight," he said, firmly.  "But
first, breakfast, and more education."

   "Sexual education?" she asked slyly.

   He looked over at her again, and she saw the same glint in his eye as
when she had said she could hook her ankles behind her head.  Again, she
expected something ...  male ...  to come from him, and again, he did
something different instead.

   "Try to learn something every day," he said.  "It's a mantra my students
cringe at.  I say that at least ten times a day, in class." He walked on
beside her.  "I thought you were trying to resist my charms."

   "I am," said Crystal, realizing she was walking too fast again, and
slowing down.  "It's just a lot more difficult than I thought it would be."

   "Excellent," he said smugly.

   "I thought you were trying to take things slowly," she said, trying to
turn the tables.

   "That's before I danced with you," he said.  "Finding a good dance
partner changes everything."

   "So ...  you're dangerous after all," she said.

   "I will never knowingly hurt you," he said softly.

   They arrived at the doors of the dining room as he said that, and the
noise of people eating made it uncomfortable for her to try to respond.  He
didn't give her time to anyway, raising his voice.

   "I see some of the others.  You want to join them?"

   "No," she said.  "Maybe later."

   "Excellent," he said, and her belly fluttered again.

   =================================

   "So," said Bob, when they were all assembled.  "How did it go?"

   He noticed that they had all come in and sat in pairs, this time.  He
knew what some of the pairs were, because he'd seen them together, around
the resort.  He didn't know enough about any of them to make a judgment on
whether they had chosen well or not, but no one looked really
uncomfortable. Jeff and Roberta were sitting closer together than the
others, which suggested they had gotten along well.  It was only a
difference of inches, but Woody and Crystal were next on the "closeness
index", followed by Jane and Roger, who were sitting about the same
distance apart as Chuck and Tiffany.  Lori, unsurprisingly, had sat next to
the head of the table, where Bob had been the day before.

   "It was interesting," said Woody, breaking the silence.

   "How did the communication go?" asked Bob, when nobody else volunteered
anything.

   He saw color flush into Roberta's cheeks, and then noticed the same
thing in Jane's.  Both women looked at their partners, and then looked
away. That was very interesting.  Bob was seeing things he didn't usually
see until day three or four, when the discussion became frank about sexual
techniques, and couples were comfortable enough to share intimate details
about their relationships.  The women usually blushed, and the men either
shifted in their seats, or preened.

   "Come on, people, we have to talk, to get anywhere," said Bob. 
"Roberta?" he spoke her name.

   She jerked, and looked at him, her eyes wide.

   "Were you able to communicate with Jeff?  Were you able to be honest
with him?"

   "I think I was very honest with him," she said, blushing even more.

   Bob felt a tinge of concern.  It wasn't unusual for attractions to
develop between members of different couples.  It was one of the things he
talked about.  But this group wasn't supposed to develop attractions.  They
were just supposed to learn to communicate on a deeper, more honest level.

   "And do you think he was honest with you?" Bob asked.

   The look she gave him said it all.  Something had obviously happened
between them.  He remembered that both had problems in their marriages.  He
had hoped that would give them something to empathize with, and open up the
lines of communication.  But it was plain that something more had happened.

   "Very much so," said the woman, looking at the man she was talking about
like he WAS her husband.

   Bob looked at Jane, who was staring at Roberta, still blushing herself.
Bob felt more tingles of concern.

   "May I take it that communication led to some feelings of ... 
attraction?" asked Bob, looking all around the table, so that no particular
person was singled out.

   He got tiny nods of agreement from almost all of them, who were looking
all around the table too, instead of at their partners.  Roberta was the
exception.  Her eyes were still on Jeff, and when his met hers, they stayed
there.

   "How many of you feel uncomfortable, or guilty about that?" he asked.

   Everyone looked at him then.  Most of them looked shocked.  He assumed
that was because most of them had answered that question "Yes" in their own
minds, but were unwilling to make that answer public.

   Bob Nivens suddenly realized he had the potential for a problem on his
hands.  In all the strangeness that had resulted from the error that sent
all these teachers here, he had adapted ...  and forgotten something
crucial.  Communication was SUPPOSED to create attraction.  He knew that.
How in the world had he forgotten that when he decided to throw members of
this unorthodox "class" of people together?

   "Do we have any ...  problems ...  here?" he asked.  "My intent here is
to help you ...  not put you in an uncomfortable situation."

   Jeff finally tore his eyes away from Roberta, and met Bob's gaze.

   "Jeff?" prompted Bob.

   "When you're married," said Jeff slowly, "you're not supposed to be
attracted to anyone else."

   "Culturally, that's true," said Bob.  "Biologically, it's preposterous."

   Now he had everyone's undivided attention, and it was interested
attention.

   "Who are you allowed to fall in love with, and who are you not allowed
to fall in love with?" asked Bob.

   "Relatives," said Jane automatically.  "Not, I mean." She blushed.

   "Incest is banned by culture," agreed Bob.  "That doesn't mean no one
will ever think about it, or be interested in it, or be tempted to have
that kind of relationship.  Incest flourished for thousands of years before
it fell out of favor with various cultures."

   He got shocked looks.

   "We touched on this yesterday," said Bob patiently.  "Biological
attraction comes first, and automatically.  We can't control that part.  It
just happens.  After that, culture, and religion, and personal tastes
filter those feelings, and we make decisions - most of them unconscious -
about who is acceptable and who is not."

   Crystal raised her hand.  When Bob nodded at her, she said: "How can you
tell whether what you're feeling is just biology, or something deeper?"

   "Relationships are based on lots of things," said Bob.  "There is the
initial physical attraction.  Continued physical attraction is part of
building a relationship.  Not all relationships have sex in them.  You have
friends, who are very important to you, who you're not attracted to on a
sexual level.  True?" He asked.

   He got nods all around, and went on.

   "So, if the physical attraction persists, that's one sign.  But
personality counts for a lot.  What you are attracted to most, in the case
of your friends, are their personalities.  You like them.  You like being
around them.  You like talking to them.  If that is happening, and you
still feel physical attraction, that's another indicator of the possibility
of a deeper kind of relationship."

   He got more nods, and a few looks between partners.

   "So feeling ...  desire," said Tiffany, "isn't such a bad thing, if you
like the person you're with too."

   "That's where it begins to get complicated," said Bob.  "It's
complicated because there are two of you, or more, in some situations, such
as open marriages.  Each member of the relationship has different wants and
needs, and can give different things.  They don't always match up to
everyone's satisfaction."

   "That open marriage thing bothers me," said Jeff.  "I don't understand
how anyone can be in an open marriage, and be happy," said Jeff.  "If you
really found that one, special person, how can you be with the love of your
life, and feel something for another woman?"

   Bob sighed.  "Do you think there's only one person out there, in all the
world, that you're destined to fall in love with?" he asked.  "That's
ridiculous, and I think you'll agree if you just think about it for a
minute."

   He took a sip of coffee.

   "If there were only one person in the world that was 'right' for you,
the chances of finding that person would be astronomically small.  We're
talking one in three or four billion, if we leave out the children.  The
human race would die out in a single generation if that was the way nature
worked."

   He wrote "four billion" on the computer screen, and it projected starkly
on the display.  "You'd be more likely to win the lottery ten times before
you found that one person.

   He took another sip of coffee, looking at the startled faces of the
group.

   "You can fall in love a thousand times ...  if you let yourself.  It's
natural.  You've all been trained to think monogamously, and that's fine,
if you're happy with that.  Nothing wrong with monogamy at all.  But don't
be surprised if you're attracted to other potential partners.  That's just
nature, knocking at your door, asking if anybody wants to come out and
play."

   "But we can't just go off and mate with whoever we feel like,"
complained Tiffany.

   "Of course not," said Bob.  "Society wouldn't survive that either.  The
point is that it is possible to fall in love with almost anybody, if the
circumstances are right.  It's not odd.  It's completely normal to be quite
happy with one partner, and still feel the tug towards another."

   "So ..." said Jeff.  "If somebody here ...  one of us ...  fell in love
with somebody else here ...  that wouldn't be all that strange?"

   Bob nodded.  "There's nothing wrong with you if you feel that tug. 
Knowing that helps you regulate your own desires.  You don't need to feel
guilty for feeling the tug.  What you have to do is make a decision about
what, if anything, to DO about it." He leaned back.  "And you DO make those
decisions, whether you know it or not.  The decisions you make to move
forward with the mating ritual are made in a split second," said Bob.  "You
see a potential mate, you evaluate that mate, and if she's acceptable, your
natural INSTINCT is to make things happen."

   "But that's not love," complained Chuck.  "That's just ...  hormones."

   "That's a good point," said Bob.  "Love comes later.  And not
automatically.  We actually LEARN to love someone.  Sometimes it's easy,
and sometimes it's more difficult, but if you want the pairing to last,
love is definitely required."

   "My wife would never let me be in love with another woman at the same
time I was married to her," said Jeff.

   "That's because your wife cannot be happy in that situation," said Bob.
"That doesn't mean another woman would react the same way.  It also doesn't
mean you won't be attracted to another woman."

   "But then you have a problem," said Jeff.

   "You bet you do," said Bob.

   "So, what do I do now?" asked Jeff, helplessly.

   His question left a stunned silence in the room.  Roberta flushed pink
again.  It was plain to them all that he was in that very situation.

   "You do what you have to do in every situation.  You examine your
options and make a choice.  Hopefully, there's one there that will result
in the best possible outcome.  More often, we have to give and take.  The
key to any successful relationship is learning enough about each other
BEFORE a commitment is made, to know what the needs and wants of each
partner are that will regulate that commitment."

   "I don't see any options," said Jeff.  "Well there are two, but I don't
like either one of them."

   "What are those options?" asked Bob.

   Jeff looked around, uncomfortably.  He seemed to make a decision that he
could trust the people around him.

   "I can get a divorce, or I can stop seeing the other woman I'm attracted
to." He said it like he was talking about someone back home, but everyone
in the room knew he was talking about Roberta.

   "Is your wife bi-sexual?" asked Bob.

   "What?" Jeff looked stunned.

   "Is it possible that your wife likes sex with women too?  If she does,
then she may be attracted to the other woman too.  That would give you
another option."

   "I have no idea!" blurted Jeff.  "We never talked about THAT!"

   "You see the value of good communication," said Bob.  "There's something
you don't know about your own wife, that could solve the whole situation.
How does the other woman feel about bi-sexuality, or sharing you?"

   "I wouldn't ask her.  That's not normal.  You can't do that!" said Jeff,
looking pale.

   "Thousands of people do that every day," said Bob.  "It's a perfectly
acceptable compromise for them."

   "I'm not going to be part of some man's harem," said Tiffany, her voice
stern.

   "Then your partner ...  whoever he is ...  needs to know that," said
Bob.

   "You'd have to talk about every eventuality in the world!" she objected.

   "And what does that cost you?" asked Bob.  "Nothing.  It's talk ... 
communication ...  it clears the air, and sets the stage for that time when
things change, if they change.  Wants and needs are constantly changing."

   "OK," said Tiffany, frowning.  "Let's say I meet the man of my dreams,
and we talk about all these things, and we come to agreement on what we can
tolerate, and what we can't.  Then something changes and screws all that
up? What kind of life is that?"

   "There are deal breakers," said Bob, "and there are things that can be
negotiated.  If you have good communication, you'll know what those things
are.  That's where love comes into play.  Love involves sacrificing some of
your wants and needs, to meet those of your partner.  Love makes all the
difference.  Love is what maintains the relationship, and saves it when
danger threatens."

   "That sounds like a lot of work to me," said Lori, suddenly.

   "It is a lot of work," said Bob.  "But it's some of the best work you
can ever do in your entire life."

   They talked on.  They didn't want to take organized breaks.  If someone
needed to get something to drink, or go to the bathroom, they just went,
and the others talked on.  As more and more "situations" that could occur
in a relationship surfaced, it was pretty plain to all of them that they
had very restricted views of what the options were in most of those
situations.  In many cases, when one person proposed an option, two or
three others were astounded, not having thought of that idea, but realizing
that it really WAS a viable choice, in a given situation.  At the same
time, there were plenty of times when someone said "I could never do that!"


   No one wanted to change partners.  There was a tacit understanding of
the attractions that had developed between the pairs in the group.  The
conversation broke only long enough for them to go to lunch, where they sat
as a group.  As soon as all the orders were in, it started up again.

   It continued for the rest of the afternoon, unabated, as ridiculous
situations were thought up, and the group came up with possible solutions.
They were having fun, now, just brainstorming, and the group dynamic
evolved that began to wipe out preconceived notions about what individuals
were like, and how they were "supposed" to act, both as individuals, and a
group.  The group came up with two more options for Jeff, beginning to
think outside the box.  One was telling his wife everything, and asking
permission to meet "the other woman" once a year (or more), with his pledge
that he'd be faithful to his wife the rest of the year.  The other was
giving her permission to have her own affair, one more or less the same
basis.  Jeff didn't think Melanie would go for either of those options, but
he found it fascinating.  It made him think about things in an entirely
different manner than he had in the past.

   When Lori asked what she should do if she found a man she was interested
in, who thought he shouldn't be interested in her, the group told her to
"just go for it", much to Bob's chagrin.  That she looked at him
triumphantly didn't help.  Everyone at the table knew who she was talking
about.

   Of course, by then, Bob knew that he had, unknowingly, an
unintentionally, not only opened Pandora's box, with this group ...  he had
torn the lid off and thrown it away.  By the end of the day he was
convinced that at least two couples had already engaged in some kind of
sexual play, at a minimum, and that the others were close to it.  And it
was only the second day!  Ruefully, he wondered if they'd be swapping
partners by Friday.  That happened in a surprising number of his seminars.
Not everyone participated, by any means, but it wasn't unusual for two
couples to lean that direction as ...  attractions ...  were explored.  In
one seminar four of ten couples had taken the first steps to develop open
marriages during the seminar, even though none of them had been interested
in that lifestyle at all when they arrived.  In at least ten seminars, one
of the women had been attracted to Bob, and received permission from her
husband to explore that.  Of those women, five had actually had sex with
him.  Three of them had had babies nine months later.  All three were still
quite happy with their husbands.  Of course, Bob's sperm wasn't the only
sperm they were inseminated with, during the seminar.  But those three
women seemed to think it was Bob's sperm that had won the day.  It was one
reason Bob was trying not to let things go too far with Lori.

   Five o'clock arrived before anyone knew it, and Bob called a halt.

   "What do we do tonight?" asked Jane, fidgeting in her chair.

   "Based on what I've seen today," said Bob, "I suspect a number of you
will want to be alone in your pairs."

   Only Jane blushed, this time.

   "I do want to do that," said Woody, garnering a melting look from
Crystal.  "but I sure like being in the group too.  This has really been an
amazing day."

   "The pool is too cold at night," said Roger.  "And we can't all fit in
the hot tub."

   Everyone was shocked when Lori said "We could if we sat on each other's
laps."

   "How about dinner together," said Bob, knowing Lori wouldn't drop it,
"and then carry that over in the hot tub.  Then we can split up for some
private time."

   "If I sit on Woody's lap," said Crystal, "nobody would be able to see
him."

   "Then I'll have to sit on YOUR lap," said Woody, grinning.

   And, just like that, the evening was planned.

   ==================================

   Dinner was different from lunch, in that, while they all ate together,
it was more like a gathering of old friends, than a group of students. 
Paired groups were the norm, now, and everyone expected each woman to sit
next to her chosen man, and vice versa.  Almost as if they were taking a
break from the seminar, the talk had nothing to do with it.  Now, they
talked about their teaching positions, their lives, ups and downs each had
experienced, vacation spots they'd recommend to the others, and normal
every day chit chat.

   In the hot tub afterwards, though, there was a difference.  The intimacy
of putting ten people in a hot tub designed for eight, somehow led to the
members of the group getting stories out of Bob, about past seminars, and
past couples.  And, as he provided them with generic details, passions
began to flame higher.

   Not a little of that intimacy had to do with Lori, oddly enough.  She,
too, had come without a suit.  Not having gotten to her school yet, and not
having started receiving pay, yet, when she saw how much things cost, she
tried to demur from joining the group.  When she approached the tub, in
which the others had already installed themselves, and explained, there was
a chorus of comments that she had to join them.

   Again, it was Roberta, now thoroughly enjoying her newly found freedom
to be herself, who suggested a solution.

   "Just put on some underwear," she said.  "Cover up with a towel and come
back.  Nobody will know the difference.  We don't actually have more than
two people sitting on laps, so you can sink down in the water.  When we're
done, you can cover up with the towel again, and run back to your room."

   "I could never do that," gasped the blushing girl/woman.

   "Sure you can," agreed Tiffany.  "We'll make sure the men don't look
when you get back.  We'll cover their eyes or something, until you're in
the water."

   "Really?" asked Lori, her voice high.  "Do you really think that would
be OK?  I'd really like to be part of the group."

   "Absolutely," said Bob.  "We've been thinking outside the box all day,
and that's an excellent solution to the problem."

   "OK!" said Lori, brightly.  "I'll wear some of the underwear you bought
me!" She beamed at Bob, and ran off, before he could say anything more.

   "You bought that girl underwear?" asked Crystal, who was sitting next to
Woody, shoulder-to-shoulder.

   Bob grinned.  "I wanted her to feel a little more feminine." He looked
rueful.  "The problem is, I didn't pick anything with this particular
situation in mind."

   "You picked out underwear for her?" Crystal's voice went up a notch.

   "She couldn't decide," said Bob, in his defense.  "She told me to pick
something, so I did."

   "What did you pick?" asked Jane.

   Bob's face darkened a little.  "I ...  uh ...  picked the most feminine
things I saw," he said weakly.

   "And her new clothes," said Roberta.  "Was that your doing too?"

   "Uh huh," said Bob.

   "Well you had good taste there," said Roberta.  "She looks good in
that."

   "I don't know about the underwear, though," said Bob.

   They went on to other subjects, until they saw Lori, towel clutched
protectively around her body, coming back.

   "I think there's something wrong with this underwear," she said, looking
uncomfortable.

   "What's the matter?" asked Roberta.

   "There's no back to it," said Lori.  "The bottoms, I mean.  There's just
this string that kind of goes between my ..." She didn't finish.

   Crystal made an explosive sound in her throat and reached out to swat at
Bob.

   "You got her a THONG?"

   "Hey, it was feminine, and modern," he said, defending himself.

   Roberta looked with sympathy at Lori.

   "It's OK, honey.  It was made that way.  Bob just chose the wrong thing
for you, that's all."

   "It's SUPPOSED to rub up between my ..." Again, Lori couldn't finish.

   "It's supposed to feel sexy," said Crystal, also sympathizing with the
young woman.  "Don't you have another pair?"

   "When Bob got me these, I threw out my old ones," said Lori, sounding
lost.  "All the others he got me are like this, except the ones I wore
today, and they're in my dirty clothes bag."

   "I won't look," said Woody, holding his hands up in front of his eyes.
His fingers were splayed open, and he was obviously peeking through the
gaps.

   "Me neither," said Chuck, copying Woody."

   "Boys!" barked Tiffany.  "She can't participate if you don't behave
yourselves!"

   "I'll just look at you," said Jeff, staring at Roberta.  She blushed and
leaned to kiss him, catching herself only at the last second.  Then she
blushed harder.

   "Come on in, Lori," said Crystal.  "We'll manage the boys."

   Lori, eager to be one of the crowd, and reassured by the women's
comments, simply dropped the towel on the deck beside the hot tub, and
prepared to climb up the steps.  There was a shocked silence.

   Her panties barely covered her mons, and tufts of blond hair peeked out
of the sides.  As she turned, her bare buttocks were visible.  Her bra
didn't cover much more, and was sheer enough that her nipples already
showed through the pale blue cloth.  It was clear that, when it got wet, it
would be completely transparent.

   "Ohhh man," groaned Jeff, covering his eyes.  His fingers were closed.

   There was a sudden flurry of women's wet hands, bursting out of the
water, as Crystal tried to block Woody's view, and Jane did the same thing
to Roger.  Both men were unabashed in their attempts to look past the spray
and hands.  Lori froze, looking wide-eyed at the scene.  Bob, of course,
had no one to cover his eyes, and stared at Lori appreciatively.  He
noticed that her nipples were much darker than pink ones would look.

   "Get IN, girl!" gasped Roberta.  "Quickly!"

   The problem was that all nine of them had scrunched in, no longer
concerned that a "stranger" was rubbing up against them.  There was no
place for Lori to slip into.  Crystal and Roberta, who were closest to
where Lori was now scrambling toward, surged up.  Roberta plopped herself
on Jeff's lap, feeling his lump immediately.  She turned to press her upper
chest to his face.  Crystal, perhaps remembering Woody's earlier comment,
pulled him up and slid beneath him, pulling him onto her lap.  At the same
time, she grasped his head with both hands and forced him look at her.  To
her surprise, he kissed her on her lips.

   Meanwhile, Lori scrambled into the gap and lunged across the tub toward
Bob, who was between Jane, and Chuck, whose eyes were being covered by
Tiffany, and who had his hands on her waist, no longer trying to peek. 
Lori slid onto Bob's lap, her wet, slick, naked buttocks sliding up his
legs, and onto his manhood, which had begun to inflate rapidly.  His arms
went around her instinctively, one hand falling on her naked hip, and the
other on her back, as she turned sideways, one of her arms going around his
neck.  She ended up with her face only inches from his.

   Bob couldn't help but kiss her lightly, seeing her frightened eyes
staring into his.

   "You're fine now," he said, pulling his face back.

   For answer, she buried her face between his neck and shoulder, but
relaxed.

   Woody, grinning at Crystal's astonished look, after he kissed her,
winked at her and turned, to snuggle back against her chest, feeling her
breasts on his back.  He let his hands drop to touch her thighs lightly,
while her hands came naturally to his stomach, above the waistband of his
trunks.

   Jeff, when he felt Roberta plop onto his lap, reached and cupped one of
her breasts, squeezing it lightly.  His other hand went to her thigh.  Her
reaction was text book.  Old habits being still there, just under the
surface, one of her hands went to his, on her thigh, and gripped it, to
keep it from going where it "wasn't supposed to go", while she twisted,
trying to dislodge the hand on her breast.  Then, new habits reasserting
themselves, she relaxed.  One hand brushed his away from her breast, while
the other one pulled the one on her thigh higher, right into her lap.  She
relaxed, and wiggled around to lie back against him.

   "This is an adventure," said Chuck, kissing Tiffany's fingertips.  Her
laughter seemed out of place, until she tweaked his nose and took her hand
away.

   "That's some outfit, Bob," said Crystal, her voice heavy with sarcasm.

   "Do you feel feminine?" Bob asked Lori, whose face was still buried in
his shoulder.

   "I feel naked," she mumbled into his neck.

   "You could take it off, to see what naked really feels like," said Bob,
grinning at the rest.  He got dark looks from the other women present.

   "That's OK," mumbled Lori, missing the joke completely.  "I'd rather
keep it on for now."

   Her use of the words "for now" made Bob's prick stiffen even more.  He
felt it press into Lori's bare buttocks, and she wiggled slightly.  She
lifted her head and looked into his face.

   "Is that your ...?" she asked, wide-eyed.

   "I'm afraid so," he said gently.  "You're very attractive in that
outfit."

   Tiffany turned to Chuck.  "Don't say a word!" she ordered.

   "Who?  Me?" he said, feigning innocence.  "I won't say anything.  But
you need to find out where they shopped for that.  I want to buy you a
present." He grinned.

   Tiffany's fingers traced down his chest, and found one of his nipples.
She squeezed it gently, but didn't say anything.

   Woody turned his head to look back at Crystal, and said "Don't look at
me.  I don't buy underwear for my lady friends."

   "It wouldn't fit me anyway," said Crystal, trying to squeeze his abs. 
She wasn't able to get much, and her fingers slipped on taut skin.

   "Oh ...  gee," said Woody, his face perfectly serious.  "I guess you'll
just have to go without."

   To his astonishment, her hand slid down and cupped the front of his
suit, squeezing his lump.

   "In your dreams, pervert," she said, squeezing him again.  Then she
moved her hand to his thigh.

   That's what got the conversation going again, on seminar issues.  There
was a discussion about when to wear ...  or not wear ...  underwear, and
what, if anything, that meant.  There were a variety of responses.  Crystal
said she didn't feel comfortable without underwear.  Tiffany said she
didn't mind going braless, but felt naked without panties.  Lori said she
had it all on and still felt naked.  Roberta said she'd never even thought
of going without.  Jane said she didn't even own underwear until she had
her first period, and could take it or leave it.  The men agreed that going
without made them feel erotic, but got a laugh from the women when they
talked about the dangers of zippers, sans underwear.

   Next was a discussion about whether to sleep in the nude or not, and
what walking around in one's house was like, or might be like, in the nude.

   It was when Bob started talking about methods of masturbation, and
various sexual toys, that hands began to wander, under the water.

   For the two women sitting on laps, all those hands could do was stroke
whatever naked skin they could reach.  Woody could only reach Crystal's
thighs, which he traced over with light fingertips.  Crystal's hand went
back to the front of his suit, and he pressed back against her, to let her
know that touch was most welcome.

   Tiffany,her hip pressed tightly to Chuck's, let her hand settle into his
lap, and he put his arm around her, making her lean forward a little, so he
could cross her back.  His hand traced the side of her breast, until she
turned enough that he could cup most of it.

   Jane held Roger's hand in hers, letting it rest on her inner thigh, and
slowly bringing it closer and closer to where her thighs met.  Roger acted
like nothing was happening, until he felt her swim suit on the edge of his
little finger.  He balled his hand, making her let go, and then cupped her
mound as she hissed, jerked, and spread her legs.  She leaned against him,
letting her head fall onto his shoulder.  Then she began the same game of
putting her hand on his knee, and slowly sliding it toward his penis. 
Roger, fully hard, reached down and manipulated his prick out of the leg of
his loose trunks.  When her hand slid high enough, and she felt it, she
jumped again, her hand sliding up onto his firmness with a delicate,
hesitant touch.

   "Roger!" she chided.

   "What's going on over there?" asked Roberta.  "Is Roger being a bad
boy?"

   Jane blushed, but didn't let go of his penis.

   "No," she said.  "I suppose not.  He's just full of surprises, that's
all."

   Had it not been for the foreplay, they might have stayed there longer.
Jane, her hand full of hard penis, was the first to suggest that she and
Roger had "things to talk about".  She squeezed his cock as she said that.
She'd been stroking him, very slowly, not enough to bring him off, but
enough to make him very excited, and he agreed.  That led to an almost
comical situation where Jane stood up, and Roger had to "adjust things",
which still were plainly advertising his excitement when his trunks broke
the water.  Jane threw him a towel, which he held artfully in front of him.
Then Tiffany stood up, and everyone's eyes were on Chuck.

   "What are you looking at?" he asked, his voice surly.  "I'm a man.  I
admit it." He made no attempt to cover the erection straining against the
front of his tight suit, and got several giggles from the women left in the
tub.

   "I'll just stay in here, until you are all gone," said Lori, who had
recovered, and was still sitting on Bob's lap, even though there was plenty
of room, now, for her to sit beside him.  "I don't think my underwear was
made for this." She peered down through the water at her bra, which was, in
fact, almost transparent.

   =========================================

   Chapter Sixteen - Lori and Bob

   In the end, Bob and Lori were all that were left.  She still sat on his
lap, her arm around him.

   "Do you want to go do something?" he asked.

   "No, I like it here," she said, wiggling against him.  "Let's kiss some
more."

   "This is going a little faster than I planned," he said, looking into
her eyes.

   "I don't care," she said.  "I'm having the most fun of my life.  Even
the guys looking at me wasn't so bad."

   "This fun can turn very serious," said Bob, stroking her buttock.

   "I don't care about that either," she said, her own voice serious.  "I
like what's happening.  I like feeling like this."

   "You should probably stay a virgin, Lori," said Bob.

   "OK," she said, amiably.  "That's kind of scary to think about anyway.
But I like touching you, and I like having you touch me." She wiggled
against him some more.

   "Have you ever had an orgasm?" asked Bob, softly.

   "I don't think so," she said, her eyes clear.  "I never did anything
until I met you."

   "Would you like to try that?"

   "Can we do that here?" she asked.  "I really like this."

   Bob looked around.  There were people at the bar, and four people
swimming in the pool.  Others were walking, going here, or there.  None
were close enough to see what might go on, but he had no idea how loud
she'd be.

   "We can try," he said.

   He shifted her around until her back was pressed to his chest, and her
legs were spread, outside of his.  He wanted to bare his prick, so he could
feel it against her naked buttocks, but decided not to right now.

   "You just relax, and lie back, and I'll make you feel good," he said.

   He started on her breasts, first just stroking them, and then pushing
her bra up so he could use both hands to rub them, and get at her nipples
with his fingers.  Even in the warm water, her nipples firmed, until they
were rubbery and stiff.

   "Ooooo, I like that," she moaned, letting her head fall back on his
shoulder, beside his head.

   "There's lots more," he whispered.  He let one hand slide down, across
her belly, and dipped it into the front of her panties.  She stiffened and
held her breath as he toyed with her pubic hair, and then slid three
fingers lower, to press her pussy lips.  She spread her legs farther,
opening herself up as much as she could.

   "Ohhhhhh yes," she moaned.  "That's even better." She stiffened.  "Are
we being naughty?"

   "Not a bit," he said into her ear.

   "I'm glad, because I really like this."

   Even in the water he could feel the lubrication her body was making, and
he used it to slide his middle finger against her clit, just pressing, at
first, and then sliding it back and forth.

   "Unnng," she groaned, her hips starting to lurch by instinct.  "Soooo
good," she whined.

   "I'm going to put my finger in you a little," he whispered.  "If it
hurts, tell me, OK?"

   "OK, she gasped, her hips jerking.  "Just don't stop."

   "I might have to if you get noisy," he said.

   "Why would I get noisy?" she panted.

   "It's going to feel even better in a minute," he said.

   "Better?" she yipped, as his finger started sliding into her.

   "Much better," he whispered, licking her ear.

   He pushed, and felt no barrier.  He didn't want to break the mood,
trying to figure out how such an innocent and protected girl had broken her
hymen, but apparently she had, because, while there was firm resistance
from the sides of her tunnel, he felt nothing obstructing it.  He wiggled
his finger deeper, until he couldn't go any further, and then pulled up, to
put pressure back on her clit.

   Then he whipped his finger back and forth, in and out, and around in
circles as her body got more and more rigid.

   "Oh," she gasped.  "Oh OHHHH" Her voice got louder.  "OHHH BOB!", she
squealed.

   He turned her by brute force, until he could seal his lips onto hers,
and muffled her cries as she had her first orgasm.  She shook like a dog,
just out of the river, and her hands splashed in the tub.  Once he knew she
was fully involved in her orgasm, he stopped manipulating her, and just put
pressure on her clit.  He knew stopping early would rob her of some of the
pleasure, but she needed to be behind closed doors for a full blown orgasm.


   After seeing how she reacted to his finger, he already knew how he'd
give her that next one.

   =================================

   Five minutes later, Lori was sitting beside Bob, in the tub.  She'd
pulled her bra back down, and her head was lolling back on the rim of the
tub.  Her hand was in his, holding it tightly.

   "I had no idea," she said, breathing deeply.

   "That was just a starter orgasm," he said.  "Some of them are even more
intense than that."

   "I see what you were talking about when you said this was dangerous,"
she said.  "I want to feel that again already."

   "You can, but not here," he said.

   "In your room?" she asked, her eyes still closed.

   "In my house," he said.

   "Let's go," she said, opening her eyes and sitting up.

   ==================================

   Chapter Seventeen - Tiffany and Chuck

   "What are we going to do tonight?" asked Tiffany, pulling Chuck away
from the hot tub by his hand.  He didn't pull it away from her now.

   "I have no idea," he said weakly.  "I'm very vulnerable right now."

   "I thought that was a woman's line," said Tiffany, smiling.

   "I know how a woman feels right now," he said.

   "Are you still trying to avoid making love to me?" she asked.

   "It's a good plan, Tiffany," he said.  "I know it is.  All my other
relationships got messed up because I went too fast."

   "Well, then, let's get you dressed, and we can decide what to do," said
Tiffany, altering their direction toward his room.

   Maybe it was because they were going to his room that Chuck felt a
little better.  Thinking about going to her room brought back visions of
her topless, and he didn't think he could take that again.  Not right now.
He really believed that going slowly was the cure to his relationship woes,
but it was hard.

   It was really hard.

   In more ways than one ...  pun intended.

   And, when they got to his room and she sent him into his bathroom, with
clothes to put on, he felt better, because she closed the door between
them. He had his erection to deal with, and decided that, if he beat off,
it might help.

   He was in the middle of doing just that, standing naked in front of the
mirror, his hand flashing along his hard prick, when she walked into the
bathroom like it was her own.

   She was naked.

   "Do you have an extra razor?" she asked, calmly.  "Seeing Lori like that
made me realize I need a trim." She pulled at her blond pubic hair and he
stared at the pink lips hanging down below that hair.

   She looked at his hand, wrapped around his boner.  There was a drip of
precum oozing out of the tip.

   "Do you want me to help with that?" she asked brightly.  "I'd be glad to
help."

   "Tiffany!" he choked.

   "Yes?" she said innocently.  "How about that razor?" She pulled upwards
on her hair, and her pussy lips spread apart, almost winking at him.

   "AUUUGGGHHHH!" he roared, startling her.

   Then he was there, right in front of her, bending over.  She didn't
understand until his shoulder hit her in the stomach and all the air went
out of her lungs.  She saw stars as she felt herself being lifted off the
floor.  She couldn't get another breath in to replace the one that had just
whooshed out, because all her weight was on her stomach, which was
compressed by his shoulder.  Then the brightness of the bathoom went dark,
as he took her into the dim living area, and the disorientation of flying
through the air and bouncing onto the bed.  Her body flopped, her arms
going out wide and her legs spread, as she sucked in air.

   As the stars cleared, she felt his chest against hers.  As she was able
to complete drawing her first breath she felt his hand between her legs and
then the blunt tip of his penis, which he was aiming at her opening.

   He wasn't gentle, and the sudden filling of her pussy, unused to
anything bigger than her finger, was painful in a shatteringly sweet way.
That she had gotten wet, undressing and planning her ambush helped, because
he thrust into her all the way in that first lunge.  Still, he felt huge,
and the pain frightened her.  She had drawn that air in to scream - a
natural reaction - but that breath of air burst out of her lungs again as
his pubic bone slammed against her clit, smashing it flat, and she saw
stars again.  She felt smothered, and panic surged in her, giving her
strength in the form of adrenaline.  Her back arched, trying to throw him
off of her, but all that did was make him withdraw slightly, and then he
slammed back in again.

   "Is THIS what you want?" he growled, pushing so hard that she felt her
body slide on the bedspread.  "Is THIS what you're so eager to get?"

   He pulled back and began rabbit thrusts into her as she dragged in
another breath.

   "No!" she gasped.  "Stop!"

   "Too late for THAT!" he panted.  "You asked for it, and now you're going
to GET IT!"

   "CHUCK!" she groaned, her body betraying her.  She'd never been taken
like this before ...  never felt so helpless and vulnerable.  Her mind
screamed, but her body began to purr as his penis mauled her clit, and his
chest massaged her breasts.  "PLEEASE, CHUCK, Noooo" she whined.

   "You HAD to tease me," he panted, thrusting deep, and staying there. 
"You couldn't wait," he groaned.  "You wanted to be FUCKED!" He started the
rabbit thrusting again.  "Well here it IS, TIFFANY!"

   Tiffany's mind wasn't clouded by passion, and she could think clearly.
She heard the pain in his voice, and was confused, until she realized he
had lost control ...  was terrified himself, at what he was doing.  Her
panic began to abate a little, as she realized he was only being forceful,
and wasn't going to hurt her.  She HAD teased him, over and over again,
even though she tried not to.  She'd thrown herself at him this time too,
knowing that what she was doing was cruel, but unable to help herself.  She
felt responsible for what had happened, as a result, and suddenly arrived
at the conclusion she WAS getting exactly what she had asked for.

   Her hands, which had been clawing at his chest, relaxed, and slid around
to his back.

   "Yes!" she hissed.  "Fuck me, you bastard.  Make me pay.  FUCK ME!" she
squealed.

   Now her hips began to work with him, instead of against him, and they
developed a slapping rhythm that, along with their grunts and the hissing
of breath in and out of their mouths, was the only sound in the room.

   "Ohhhh Tiffany," he sobbed.

   "Don't you stop now, you bastard!" she grunted.  "Make me pay!"

   "I don't WANT to make you pay!" he cried.  "I want to LOVE YOU."

   "Listen to me, Chuck," she gasped.  "You can love me all you want to
when we're done, but right now I want you to FUCK MEEEEEEEE"

   Her orgasm was unannounced, and a complete surprise.  When she later
thought about that first mad, violent coupling, she decided that, when he
confessed he wanted to love her, it had gone straight to her inner most
being, allowing her to accept the pleasure of what, to that point, she had
really thought of as punishment.

   "I'm cumming baby," she whined.  "I'm cumming so gooood, Chuck!"

   Then she said the words that were what he needed to hear too.  "Love me
babeeeeeee," she moaned.

   "Oh fuck!" he coughed, his body vibrating.  "Oh Tiffy, honey," he
gasped. "Oh fuck!" he yelped again.

   She felt the warmth of his spend, deep inside her as he bottomed out in
her and jerked spastically, while his penis pumped spunk as fast and hard
as it could.  "Oh fuck me, I'm cumming in your pussy," he moaned.

   He jerked on top of her, making little noises, for twenty more seconds,
and then, very slowly, almost as if in super slow motion, Chuck's muscles
relaxed, one by one, letting him sag a little lower, until he was lying
fully on her.  Now she didn't feel threatened, or smothered.  Now she felt
only delirious that this man had done what he did.  He'd been too rough ...
too fast ...  and too violent, but, at the same time, he'd been perfect. 
She felt more alive than she had in years and years.  She realized he was
crying as she felt hot tears falling on her shoulder.

   "It's OK, baby," she murmured into his neck.  "Don't cry."

   "I raped you," he sobbed.  "I forced you."

   "You took what I offered," she said into his ear urgently.  "Do you hear
me complaining?  All you did was take me like a cave man takes his woman."

   "Are you OK?" he asked.  "Did I hurt you?"

   "We won't do it like that very often," she said into his ear, unable to
resist licking it.  "But sometimes, when I need you to, I want it just like
that again."

   She let him roll to the side, but didn't let go of him.  She talked to
him until he talked back, and they spent the next hour saying all kinds of
things to each other.

   "I'm really sorry," he said, at one point.

   "You were right," she said, kissing him gently.  "I did ask for it."

   "That doesn't make it right," he said.

   "I had no idea I wanted that," she said, "but, in the end, I did.  Like
I said, I won't want that very often, but sometimes I will.  Can you do
that for me again sometime ...  maybe."

   "You want to keep seeing me?" he asked, his voice like a little boy's.

   "I want to see you for a long, long time," she said.  "Will you do
something else for me?" she asked.

   "Anything," he said, his eyes misty.

   "Help me shave, and then show me what it's like when you're gentle."

   He did.  It was both passion mixed with comedy, because he couldn't get
the edges even, and had to take off a little more, and a little more,
until, in the end, she just told him to take it all.

   He WAS gentle as he gave her newly shaved pussy some oral attention. 
Then he showed her how he could make love gently.

   She liked that even better.  She liked it so much that she talked him
into showing her three more times that night.  He tried to leave, but each
time she cajoled him into staying, saying that, between times, they could
work on their relationship.  She proved it to him too.

   "Chuck?" she said at one point.

   "Mmmm?" he said, drowsy and satisfied, holding her.

   "We've done it three times tonight.  Was I ever your cheerleader during
any of them?"

   He opened his eyes, and they went unfocused.

   "I'll be damned!" he said softly.  His eyes focused again.  "No!"

   "I like that," she said, kissing him.  "Later, maybe tomorrow or the
next day, I'll do some cheers for you, OK?"

   "I don't know if that will do anything for me or not," he said, wonder
in his voice.

   "I'll do them naked," she said.

   That led to their last time of the night, before they fell into an
exhausted sleep.  He looked at Tiffany the whole time he was stroking in
her, and she looked back at him, smiling.

   He didn't think of his cheerleader then either.

   ================================

   Chapter Eighteen - Roberta and Jeff

   Roberta and Jeff went to her room, almost out of habit.  As soon as they
were in the room, and the door was closed, they were kissing and pulling at
each other's swim suits.

   "Is this all we're ever going to do?" asked Jeff.

   "For right now," said Roberta, standing naked in front of him.  "We'll
talk when we're done."

   "OK," he said, taking her in his arms.

   Their lovemaking was torrid, as usual, and passionate, with the passion
of two people who had bottled passion up for too long.  They almost had to
make love first, because neither could think of anything except that, until
they had done so.

   "I love that so much," she panted, as they rested.

   "Even if it gets you pregnant?" he panted back.

   "Especially if it gets me pregnant," she sighed.

   "I don't get that," he said.

   "I don't know what's going to happen when the week is over," she said
softly.  "If you get me pregnant I'll always have something from you to
love and cherish, though."

   "You could just love me," he said.

   "Are you saying you're going to get a divorce?" she asked.

   "I don't know," he said sadly.  "I want to, but I don't want to, at the
same time."

   "I feel the same way," she said.  "But I don't think of this as just a
fling, or an affair.  I wish you were my second husband, almost." She
grinned then.  "Except you'd be my number one husband.  Phillip would have
to settle for being number two."

   "This isn't funny," said Jeff.  "I'm pretty sure I'm falling in love
with you."

   "Just pretty sure?" she asked archly.

   "I thought I was in love with Melanie," he said.  "Now I don't know." He
frowned.  "Do you remember what it was like, in college, when you finally
figured out that the real reason for college was to teach you how little
you actually know?"

   She nodded.

   "I feel like that now," he said.  "I don't know much, any more."

   "I know I'd rather be with you," said Roberta.  "But I dread the pain
and anger of divorcing Phillip."

   "I guess that's the best way to describe how I feel too," he said.  "I
know she'll pitch a bitch, even though she obviously doesn't love me.  I
wish I could just make it all go away quietly.  If that could happen, I'd
snatch you up in a heartbeat."

   "Even if I'm pregnant?" she teased.

   "Especially if you were pregnant," he said seriously.

   They got up and got dressed, to take a walk in the moonlight, just to
prove to each other that they could think about something other than sex
together.  It only worked marginally well.  Roberta said she felt like she
was on her virgin honeymoon, and said it was much better than her real one
had been.

   Jeff took her back to the room to make her even happier.

   ===================================

   Chapter Nineteen - Jane and Roger

   "It's finally tomorrow," sighed Jane, walking beside Roger as they left
the hot tub.  "I can't wait."

   "You have to wait, at least until we get to the room," he said.

   "But you'll do it?" she asked, looking sideways at him.  "You promised."

   "I promised to talk about it," he reminded her.

   She stopped.  "I want more than talk," she said.

   "What about Jed?"

   "There is no Jed any more."

   "What about us?"

   "I want you to make love to me," she said.

   "You know what I mean," he said.

   "We'll talk about that after we make love," she said.

   "We should talk about it before we make love," he insisted.

   She snapped.  She tugged at the straps of her new swim suit, and bared
both breasts, in broad daylight.

   "You see these nipples?" she rasped.  "They're stiff for you.  I'm as
wet as if I were still in that hot tub.  If you don't promise to make love
to me I'm going to strip, right here, and masturbate in front of all these
people and I'm going to tell them all it's YOUR FAULT!" She ended yelling.

   Roger pulled her against him, to hide the fact that her breasts were
bare.

   "Pull yourself together, girl," he whispered harshly.

   "Pleeease, Roger," she moaned.  "Make love to me.  Just act like you
love me."

   "I don't have to act like it," he said softly.  "I think you're about
perfect." He kissed her hair.  "Now, fix your top.  Your room, or mine?" he
asked.

   "Yours," she said.  "I want to be your woman tonight."

   ==================================

   When his door closed, it was much the same as it was four doors down, in
Roberta's room.  They were too hurried, and he was too excited.  She was
the first woman he'd had since Elizabeth died, and he suffered premature
ejaculation.  Only the fact that she was so frenzied herself let her keep
up with him.  She clutched at him, not letting him go, until he finally
coaxed her into the shower.

   Then, barely dried off, he made love to her with his mouth again, and
she learned how to do that to him too.  She loved it ...  loved playing
with him as he got hard again, licking and sucking and even biting gently
as she shuddered through another orgasm caused by her flickering fingers on
her clit.

   She couldn't make him cum with her mouth, and he didn't want to do that
anyway.  Maybe later, but right now, he wanted to see her face as her pussy
fluttered in orgasm around his penis.  He got to see that twice before he
groaned and spurted in her again.

   This time, they lay and talked, afterward, and she told him she loved
him.

   "Do you love me?" she asked timidly.

   "You're not supposed to ask," he said softly.  "I feel very strongly for
you, but it's different than what I felt all those years for Elizabeth.  I
honestly don't know if it's love or not." He saw the hurt in her eyes.  "I
want it to be," he said.  "Maybe it is.  We just need a little more time
for me to figure things out.  I do know one thing," he said.

   "What's that?" she asked, her eyes misty.

   "I don't need to think about young girls any more to get a hardon.  All
I have to do is think about you."

   She smiled.  "I guess that will do for now.  Can I suck you again?"

   He laughed.  Instead of feeling old, he felt vibrant.  He felt like he
could get hard again, like he did when he was masturbating to pictures.

   He did.

   She softened him again.

   Then they slept.

   ==================================

   Chapter Twenty - Crystal and Woody

   "No dancing tonight," said Crystal as she walked away from the hot tub,
again outpacing Woody.

   "Where are you going so fast?" he teased.

   "You got me horny in the hot tub," she said, darkly.

   "You were the one manhandling me," he pointed out.

   "You felt very hard," she said.

   "I am very hard," he shot back.

   "But you want to take it slowly," she said.

   "Not as slowly as I wanted to take it last night," he said.  "Dancing
really is my weak point."

   "I actually like slowly," she said.  "It' keeps the anticipation at a
razor's edge."

   "You like anticipating?"

   "I didn't know it, but it turns out I do ...  a lot," she sighed.

   "So you're not going to do anything about getting me all hot and
bothered?" he whined, his voice obviously contrived.

   "I didn't say that," she said.

   "What are you going to do?" he asked, his step quickening.

   "I'm going to tease you so badly that you'll beg me," she said, turning
toward her room.

   "That's not nice," he said.

   "You teased me last night," she growled.  "And then you sat on my lap
and let me feel how hard you were."

   "I danced with you last night," he reminded her.  "And, as I recall it,
you PUT me on your lap and groped me."

   "That's what I said," she said, opening her door.  "Get inside, and get
naked."

   "You're awfully bossy," he said.

   "I get that way when a man teases me," she said.

   =================================

   He stood, hands on his hips, naked, while she walked in a circle around
him.

   "Well?" he asked, smiling.

   "You'll do," she said.  "It's been a long time since I had a man in this
position."

   "I know other positions you might be interested in," he grinned.

   "I'm the one teasing you," she said.  "Remember that.  We're going at MY
speed, tonight."

   "Yes Ma'am," he said, snapping a salute.  His prick bobbed at his arm
movement.

   "I need to stretch," said Crystal.

   "Can I watch?" he asked.

   "You have to watch," she said, starting to take her suit off.  "but no
touching ...  not unless I say so."

   "Why are we stretching?" he asked.  "Are we going to do something ... 
energetic?" He stroked his prick.

   "If you're not going to follow the program," she said darkly, her suit
half off her body, "we can always go do something else."

   His hand flashed away from his penis, and he made the motions of locking
his mouth, and throwing away the key.  She smiled.

   "To answer your question ...  I don't know," she said, removing the rest
of her suit.

   She stretched, and her fingertips brushed the ceiling.  Woody stared. 
There seemed to be acres of flesh on her body.  Her breasts were full and
round, but looked small somehow on her tall frame.  Her legs were the kind
that men sometimes describe as "going ALL the way to the ground".  The
expanse of taut flesh over her belly looked big enough to contain triplets
without even trying.  She was just huge.

   "I feel like you've been teasing me," she said, bending over backwards.
She kept going, and his jaw gaped, as her hand touched the floor behind
her. Her feet went out, just wider than her shoulders, and he was looking
at that wide, flat belly, which suddenly looked almost like a table.  Her
pussy lips were fully on display.  They were tightly closed, but lush and
thick.  She had surprisingly little pubic hair, but it was dark and fluffy.

   Her feet seemed glued to the floor as, somehow, she rose back up, her
stomach muscles tightening.  She turned around, and with her back to him,
bent over, showing him her pussy from the back, this time.  Her pussy lips
looked delicious, like dried apricots, waiting to be eaten.  She walked her
hands between her widely spread legs, until her head was behind her calves,
and she was looking at him upside down.

   "I like teasing you too," she said, from her upside-down position.  "You
could walk over here right now and your penis would be at the perfect
height to go in me."

   He took an involuntary step forward, and she stood faster than he would
have believed.  Her hand came up, one long finger extended, and she waved
it from side to side.

   "Stay," she commanded, like he was a prize dog.  When he stopped, one
foot in front of the other, and she added "Good boy", he had to laugh.  He
liked this too.  He liked it when she was forceful.

   She walked to him and leaned ever so little, her hand grasping his
manhood.

   "Would my pussy feel good around this?" Her face was inches from him. 
"I'm hot, and wet, just thinking about it," she said.  "That's how
attractive I find you, Woody Buckholtz."

   She squeezed, and then let go.  She walked around behind him.

   "So strong ...  so athletic ...  so firm." Her hand cupped one butt
cheek and she squeezed it as he automatically tightened it.

   She went to the bed, and sat down on the end, her butt right on the
edge. She lay back on it, and stretched her arms out, above her head.

   "But you're a man," she said to the ceiling.  "and I don't trust men.  I
loved a man, once, and he broke my heart."

   She reached over her head, her arms going up to the covered pillow, and
she pulled the covers off of it.  She pulled the pillow down and, folding
it in half, propped her head up, so she could see him.

   "Can I trust you, Woody Buckholtz?" she asked, lifting one leg straight
up into the air above her, and then folding it along her body until her
foot was lying beside her head.  Woody winced as he thought about the
pressure on her hip joint, but she didn't seem to feel any discomfort.

   "Can I trust you, Woody Buckholtz?" she asked again, as her second leg
came up on her other side.  She shrugged her arms inside her legs, until
they were lying on the backs of her thighs, and lifted her head.  Her feet
moved inwards, and her ankles crossed.  Her thick, wrinkled pussy lips were
not closed any more.  They pulled open, stretched by her position.  There
was a line of some sticky, white substance stretched between them.  Her
hole looked purple and dark.  Her rectum, shockingly pink, flexed open
once, and then closed tightly again.

   "Can I trust you to love me with only your mouth, while I'm helpless
like this?"

   She looked helpless, but Woody knew better.  He'd seen how fast she
could move, and had no doubt that those legs could whip down and scissor
around his neck painfully.  Her pussy beckoned him, begging to be licked,
sucked and fucked.  He felt precum slide down the tube in his penis, and
ached to slide into her warmth.

   "Yes," he whispered.

   "If you try to put your penis in me, I'll throw you out," she warned.

   "Crystal," he moaned.

   "We're taking it slowly, Woody," she taunted him.

   To help resist the urge to skewer her gaping pussy with his prick, he
got down on all fours.  He remembered her dog commands, and felt just a
flicker of anger as he realized he was acting like a dog now.

   It made him tease her back.

   He licked, his tongue flat and wide, moving from her pink rectum all the
way up and beside, but not on, her left vulva.  Then he went back and did
the right side.  He did it again, just barely touching those wrinkly lips,
and then speared her asshole with the tip of his stiffened tongue.

   "Not there, Woody," she barked, her rectum flexing.

   "Be patient," he said, leaving her rectum and tracing along one lip with
the tip of his tongue.

   "Woody!" she warned.

   "We're taking it slowly, remember?" he couldn't resist saying.

   Her heels were suddenly behind his head, before he could react, and she
pushed his face into her pussy.

   "SUCK!" she ordered.  "If you ever hope to fuck this pussy, you'd better
make me a very happy woman right now!"

   He gave her the works.  Right in the middle of it, she put her ankles
behind her head again, and told him, in no uncertain terms, just what a
wonderful job he was doing.  She couldn't move, in that position, had no
way of bucking her hips, but her pussy lips seemed alive as they almost
writhed under his ministrations.  She was, it turned out, prolific in her
manufacture of girl juice, and when she squirted his face the first time,
he was caught off guard.  She dripped all over the place, and he licked her
clean.  This time she didn't care that he was licking her anus.  She only
said "More ...  please".

   After her second orgasm, during which she sobbed and her hands came to
his head to hold him close against her, she let her legs down again and
pulled at his hair, pulling him up.  He stopped along the way to nurse her
nipples, and she whined about how wonderful that felt.

   "Now you can fuck me, Woody," she panted.

   He kissed his way up, past where he had kissed her the night before, and
then on her lips.  She didn't complain that his face was wet - licked her
juices off him, in fact - and kissed him hungrily.

   "We're taking it slow, remember?" he breathed into her mouth.

   "Woody!" she moaned.  "You just saw how I get when you tease me!"

   "Once," he said.  "Just once, tonight, OK?"

   "WOODY!" she shouted.

   Leaning over her like that, his prick was perfectly positioned.  He
didn't even have to touch it.  He just looked down, and flexed his muscles
to raise it a smidgen.  Then he nosed it between her puffy lips, and slid
in.  Her groan of satisfaction almost made him cum right then and there. 
She wasn't tight, but she was snug, almost like they were the perfect
match. He was surprised to feel the tip of his prick bump into her cervix.
He'd assumed her pussy would be as long as she was tall, but that wasn't
the case at all.

   He captured a spiked nipple again, and sucked hard, as he pushed in
deep. Her anguished cry went with the ripples he felt in her pussy as she
came, and he hadn't even moved in her yet.

   For Woody, this was perfection.  She wanted him, and loved what he was
doing to her.  She wasn't doing this just for "sex".  She was doing this
for "sex with Woody".  That was almost enough for him.  He wanted to go on
forever, until she couldn't stand it any more.  His orgasm wasn't
important. All that was important was keeping those thankful sounds coming
from her throat.  She'd kept him at arms length - a very long arm's length
- until now, when she finally accepted him as he was, shorter than her,
younger than her, but welcome anyway.  He wanted her to love him more than
anything he could think of.

   He didn't have to ask himself if he loved her.  He wouldn't be doing
this with her if he didn't.  He knew himself well enough for that.

   So he kept going, until she'd had four orgasms, slowing when he got too
close, and speeding up when it was safe to do so.  He licked and kissed and
sucked her whole upper torso, which was fun, but what was most fun was when
her eyes stared into his, as he moved, and rubbed and reamed her out, and
she said things like "Ohhh Woody".  There was much more than "Ohhh Woody"
in her eyes, and he loved it.

   "You're not human!" she finally moaned.  "If this is once, then once is
all I could take, from you!"

   "I really want to give you my seed," he panted.

   "Oh yes!" she said instantly.

   "Are you on the pill?" he asked.

   "I don't care about that," she gasped.

   "I do," he said.

   "Please, Woody," she moaned.  "Make me feel complete."

   "If you get pregnant, you have to marry me."

   "I'll marry you anyway, you bastard!" she huffed.  "After this I
couldn't keep you away from me with a fucking stick!"

   "I knew we were going too fast," he grunted.

   She solved the problem by wrapping her legs around him, preventing him
from pulling out.  When he stopped, and smiled triumphantly, she smiled
back, and his smile faded as she started using muscles she hadn't, up to
that point, used.  He groaned in frustration, but she milked him like an
expert and he felt his balls give up what he thought of as "his essence".
He wanted to be angry at her for doing something stupid, but, as she felt
his penis spurting, she moaned: "Oh, yes, give me your seed," and her
elated, face-splitting grin destroyed his anger.

   If it hadn't, her cooed "Good boy!" would have.

   ====================================

   Chapter Twenty-one - Bob and Lori

   Bob did stop by Lori's room long enough for her to change from her wet
bra and panties into one of her shapeless gray outfits, which is all she
had that was clean, and ready to wear.  When he opened the door to his
forest green Corvette, her eyes got huge.

   "This is yours?" she asked, her voice hushed.

   "Psychology can be a good living, if you spend too much time at it,"
said Bob, smiling.

   "I don't feel so bad about you buying me things now," she said, sliding
in.

   "Good," he said.  "Then you won't mind if I buy you another outfit or
two."

   "You're not doing this just because I'm going to have sex with you ...
are you?" she asked, her voice high.

   "What makes you think we're going to have sex?" asked Bob.  "Didn't I
tell you you should save your virginity?"

   "Who for?" she asked, letting her hand hang out the window and float in
the wind.

   "Your special guy, when you meet him."

   "You're special," she said.

   "You have a crush on me, because I've been nice to you, and taught you
things," he said.  "Don't mistake that for love."

   "I don't know about crushes, or love, or any of that," she said, looking
over at him.  "All I know is I like you, and I like being with you, and I
especially like it when you touch me.  Everybody makes all this furor about
sex, and we didn't even have sex yet, but I still feel the best ever.  So
sex must be even better, right?"

   "Your mother would not approve," he said gently.

   "My mother would never approve, no matter who it was with," said Lori.
"I know that now.  I think she doesn't want to know about my sex life
anyway.  If I bring home a grandchild for her, and I'm married, then she'll
be happy.  She won't think about how all that happened."

   "That's another good reason for us not to have sex," said Bob.  "You
could get pregnant."

   "Yeah, I guess so," she said, uninterested.  Like most young and
ignorant people, she thought it couldn't happen to her.

   "We definitely need to talk," said Bob.  "I'm afraid I'm setting you up
for failure."

   "How so?" she asked.

   "If you have this cavalier attitude about sex, or have sex with whatever
guy who comes along, you'll end up not only pregnant, but pregnant and
alone, with a broken heart.  Sex is serious business, Lori."

   "I know that," she said, her voice scoffing.

   "Well you don't act like it.  Wanting to have sex with me doesn't
suggest you have very good judgment."

   "Stop the car!" she said.

   If she had been smoking when she said that, Bob would have thought she
dropped her cigarette, and that it was burning the carpet, or something
like that.  He didn't ask questions, just pulled the powerful coupe onto
the shoulder, put it in park, and asked "What's wrong?"

   She turned sideways in her seat.  The look on her face was intense.

   "People think I'm stupid because I look so young, and because I have
braces, and because I haven't been very many places in my life.  But I'm
not stupid.  I may not have any experience with sex, or men and all that
stuff, but I know what sex does ...  what it's for.  You think that just
because I want to have sex with you, that I'll have sex with anybody. 
That's not true.  I wouldn't even think of letting any other man I know
touch me, much less make a baby in me."

   She leaned forward a little.

   "And I don't know whether I have a crush on you, or I'm in love with
you. I don't really care, actually.  I like being with you, and that's all
I care about.  And if you think I'm scared of being pregnant, you're wrong
about that too.  Your son will be smart, and handsome and talented, just
like his father.  I know that because I've been around you.  You're not
taking advantage of me.  I know that.  If anything, I'm taking advantage of
you.  If it weren't for you, I MIGHT have accepted any old guy, sooner or
later.  I've watched how some of the other men talk to the women.  They pay
them compliments, and all that, because they want to have sex with them.  I
know that now.  I didn't know that before I met you.  I didn't pay any
attention to any of that before I met you.  The first guy who decided I was
ripe for the picking would have picked me good and proper, and I'd have
never known what was happening."

   Now she leaned back, before she finished.

   "So don't think that I'm doing this out of some mad dream or something.
I know a good man when I meet one, and I want to have sex with a good man -
at least the first few times.  That's you, Bob.  If you won't do it, well
...  you won't do it, but I'll take what I can get in the meantime, because
you are changing my life, and I like it."

   It was a long speech for a slip of a girl - the longest he'd ever heard
her talk about anything - but that wasn't what amazed Bob.  What amazed Bob
was the sense she displayed, and the fact that she was not, in fact, some
ditzy young girl.  He'd judged this book by the cover, and what was inside
was decidedly different than the cover suggested.

   "Why do you hide your intelligence?" he asked.

   "I don't hide it," she said, turning back to the front.  "People just
don't look for it."

   "I'm sorry," he said.  "I misjudged you."

   "You shouldn't have judged me at all," she said, staring straight ahead.

   "Point taken," he admitted.

   "Now, take me to your big, fancy house.  I'm not very happy right now,
and it's mostly your fault.  I know you can fix it though.  Do you have a
hot tub?"

   "I do," he said smiling.  "But that's not what I have planned for you."

   "What do you have planned for me?" she asked, her voice high again.

   "More orgasms," he said.  "I'm not sure how I'm going to give them to
you, because you're a different girl than I thought you were when you got
in my car.  But more orgasms, at a minimum."

   "Ohhh goody," she said, smiling.  "I like those."

   "Do you want to stop and try on some clothes on the way?" he asked.

   "We can't," she said.

   "Why not?" he asked.

   "Cause I'm not wearing any underwear," she said, looking at him.  "I
wanted to see what that's like."

   "What do you think?" he asked.

   "I can't pay attention to it," she said, looking out at the passing
scenery.

   "Why not?" he asked.

   "Because I'm thinking so much about how I'm going to get you to have sex
with me," she said.

   "Oh," said Bob, hiding his smile.  Sophisticated, she wasn't, but that
had nothing to do with her intelligence.  He wondered if he should tell her
he'd already decided to grant her wish.

   He decided to surprise her.

   ===========================

   Chapter Twenty-two - Day 3

   After a night when most of the participants had had enough one-on-one
time to satisfy them, they ate breakfast together.  Bob and Lori arrived
last, coming in the door that came from the parking lot.  Roberta raised an
eyebrow, but Lori didn't catch her meaning and just chattered like normal.

   They never even made it to the conference room.

   "I was wondering," said Jane, during a lull in the conversation.  "Since
we're not your normal group ...  and since we seem to be doing very well in
the relationship forming ...  exercises, and since we only have today and
tomorrow before we all have to go back home ...  wouldn't it be better for
us to hone the skills we've already learned, instead of trying to learn
more that we won't really have time to practice?"

   "You mean practice with Roger," said Bob.

   Jane blushed.  "Well ...  yes ...  I suppose that's what I meant."

   Bob looked around.  They were all definitely couples this morning.  He
hadn't expected it, but somehow, the pairs had gotten serious about each
other.  He was seeing little things that he usually only saw with couples
who were very happy, and probably didn't need his seminar in the first
place.  A lot of very happy people came to his seminars, because they were
always looking for ways to make their relationship better.  That's why they
had such good ones in the first place.  He never told them that, though. 
He just gave them more things to try.  Sometimes it made a difference. 
Usually, those kinds of couples just got a second honeymoon, though.

   "What do the rest of you think?" he asked.

   "I could force myself to spend the day with Crystal," said Woody,
leaning against her.  He got an elbow in the ribs.

   "We have a problem," said Roberta.

   "Yes?" asked Bob.

   "We've fallen in love with each other," she said.

   "You and Jeff?" he asked.

   "Probably more than just him and me," she said, looking around.

   "Why is that a problem?" he asked.

   "We're all going back home in two days!" she said.  "For some of us,
we've just found the best thing in our lives, and we're going to have to
let go of that."

   "Options," said Bob.  "You're not thinking options."

   "Come on," she said heatedly.  "What options do we have.  We have jobs
...  homes ...  people depend on us."

   "If you had to choose between your job ...  or Jeff ...  and you could
have one or the other ...  which would you choose?" he asked.

   "That's not fair," she moaned.

   "Of course it is," he said.  "You said it was the most important thing
you ever found.  Is it more important than your job?"

   Roberta looked at Bob, then at Jeff, then at the table, then back at
Jeff, then at Bob once more.

   "I'd choose Jeff." Her head was high.  "I could always get another job."

   "Now you're thinking about options," said Bob.  "Just because you were
all strangers when you got here doesn't mean you have to leave each other's
lives when you leave here.  It all depends on what is most important in
your life.  For some of you ...  many of you, I'd suspect, your life back
wherever may have a greater claim on your loyalty than what you found here
in a mere week.  But not necessarily.  Like Roberta said ...  you can
always get another job." He shook his finger from side to side.  "But
remember too ...  you can fall in love with more than just one person."

   "I don't like that part," said Woody.  "I don't want to be in love with
anybody else."

   He got another elbow in the ribs from Crystal.  "Who said I'm in love
with you?" she growled.

   "You did, dear, last night, when I was ..." The others laughed as her
hand snapped up to cover his mouth.

   "I'm going to move my hand to your lap, now," she said, loudly enough
for everyone else to hear.  "And it's not going to be for the purpose of
making you happy.  If you say another word, in fact, I'm going to make you
very UN-happy."

   Her hand dropped from his mouth, and disappeared under the table.  Woody
tensed.

   "You were saying Woody?" asked Roger, grinning.

   Woody picked up a biscuit and stuffed it in his mouth.  Then he made
noises and pointed at his full mouth, shrugging, as if to say he couldn't
talk with his mouth full.  Crystal brought her left hand from under the
table, and faced the rest of them again.  Her right hand slipped from view,
though, and Woody stayed fairly tense.

   Bob looked around.  "I think maybe Roberta is right.  If you all have
been forming real relationships, then you need all the time you have left
to decide what to do about that.  I sympathize with you there.  Making
these kinds of decisions is very difficult, even under the best of
circumstances, and these are not the best of circumstances.  Why don't you
all spend the day together.  We can get together again at the hot tub
tonight, and see how things are going."

   They all perked up at that, and there was much more eating than talking
for the rest of breakfast.

   ======================================

   Chapter Twenty-three - Woody and Crystal.

   "How are your joints feeling?" asked Woody, as he and Crystal walked out
the doors of the conference center.

   "Fine," she said, looking around.

   "Oh," he said.  "Good.  I just thought you might need to stretch ...  or
something."

   Crystal turned to him, her gaze level.

   "Just because I acted like a fool last night doesn't mean I'm a fool."

   "You didn't act like a fool last night," he objected.  "You acted like a
woman, who needed something.  I thought I gave it to you."

   "Don't think you can just snap your fingers and I'll just hop in bed for
you," she said.  "I thought you wanted something deeper than that, anyway."

   "I do," he said.  He looked off down the street.  "OK, then, sex is out.
Sex is just a fond memory.  No more sex.  What do you want to do instead?"

   "And don't try that either, you bum," said Crystal, leaning toward him
and frowning.  "This isn't just black and white.  I didn't say I never want
to have sex with you again, and you know it."

   "I don't know anything," said Woody.  "Except that you're in a bad mood,
for some reason.  I find it fascinating that I like being around you, even
when you're in a bad mood."

   "You're the reason for my bad mood," she grumbled.

   "Me?  What did I do?"

   "You made me feel happier than I've felt since long before my divorce,"
she said.

   "And that's bad?"

   "We're leaving here in two days, Woody.  I understand completely what
Roberta was talking about.  I finally meet a man I like, who I think I can
trust, and who makes me feel things I didn't think I'd ever feel again,
and, in two days, he's going to trot back off to where he came from."

   "Well, for Pete's sake," said Woody.  "Why didn't you just say so?  Can
I have your address?"

   "Like you'd really come see me," said Crystal.

   He looked stunned, and took a step back.  Then the look on his face went
determined, almost angry.

   "Room!" ordered Woody.  "Now!"

   "What?" She actually looked surprised.

   "Go to your room right now," he said.

   "Why?" she asked.

   "You were in charge last night.  It's my turn," he said.  "We're going
to your room right now.  Go on," he said, waving at her with the backs of
his hands, like he was shooing a flock of pigeons away.

   "Woody," she complained.

   "Now!" he said firmly.  "No questions ...  just go."

   To his immense relief, she turned, and walked off.  She used her normal
gait, and did not wait for him.  She didn't quite stalk, but her body was
tense.  He caught up with her just as she pushed the door to her room open.

   "Please take off your blouse and bra," instructed Woody.

   "I told you ..."

   "And I told YOU that it's my turn to be in charge," he said.  "I'm not
going to touch you.  Just take off your blouse and bra."

   "What about my skirt?" she asked.

   "I was going to have you take that off later, but if you want to, you
can take it off now."

   "Woody, what are you doing?"

   "No questions.  Just do it," he said.

   To his added relief, she began unbuttoning her blouse.  She was looking
at his face, and there was curiosity on hers.  That was good.  Within a
minute she stood before him in only panties.

   He walked around her, examining her body.  She took a breath, and opened
her mouth, but it was obvious he was looking for something, and her
curiosity about what he was doing made her wait.

   "You have freckles," he said.

   "Yes, on my shoulders," she said.  "So what?"

   "I didn't notice those last night." He kept walking.  "There's a scar on
your hip," he said.

   "I got it when I fell out of a tree when I was a girl," she said. 
"Woody, what in the world are you doing?"

   "I'm looking at the woman I spent the last two days with," he said
calmly.  "May I touch you?  Not sexually ...  just to point out a few
things."

   "I guess so," she said, uncertainly.

   He traced a finger lightly from the middle of her back up toward one
shoulder.

   "There's a band of muscle here that bulges and ripples when you move
your arm.  I saw it the other day when you were in the hot tub." He walked
to her side, and his fingers touched her thigh.  "You're thirty years old,
but there isn't an ounce of cellulite on your thighs."

   He came to her front, and his fingers traced across her belly.  That
flesh sucked in and rippled as he did so.

   "Harden that," he instructed her.

   The flesh went taut and flat, hard as a board.

   "Good abdominal muscles," he said, like he was examining a cow or
something.

   His eyes came up to her breasts.  He stared at them and did not look in
her eyes.  He knew, somehow, that she was looking at his eyes, and not what
they were looking at.

   "Fantastic breasts, with full nipples," he breathed, and for the first
time there was more than just description in his voice.  He kept his eyes
on her breasts, first one, and then the other.  "The left one is a little
bigger than the right, though," he said, almost as if he were disappointed.

   "Woody ..."

   "Hush, I'm not finished yet," he said, letting his eyes move upward. 
"Freckles on the upper chest too, and a long neck." His eyes finally came
to her face and he felt almost fear as he saw her eyes had tears in them.

   "Strong jaw, with high cheekbones.  Eyes I could fall into," he said,
his voice softer now.  "Lips that call to me every time I look at them."

   "Why are you doing this?" she whispered.

   "Because I love everything about you," he said calmly.  "I love your
voice, and the way you think.  I love your hair, and your eyes, and the
planes of your face.  I love every freckle you have, because I want to kiss
them all, and that means I'd get to kiss you a lot, and I love kissing you.
I love that you gave me a chance.  I loved it when you had the book upside
down, because I knew you were rattled, and that meant you'd actually
noticed me, even though you pretended not to.  I love that you told me how
you felt.  I even loved it last night when you teased me, and took charge."
He smiled.  "I think you know how I felt about what happened last night."

   He stepped back suddenly.

   "And this woman I love has disappointed me, because she thinks I'll be
able to forget all about her in two days.  She thinks I won't care enough
to do whatever it takes to be near her.  She thinks I don't love her.  And
that makes me disappointed in me too, because that means I was too chicken
...  too scared ...  too gutless to tell her how I felt until right now."

   He frowned, and turned sideways to her.

   "Or ...  it could mean she doesn't feel the same way about me at all ...
that she assumed I felt the same way she does about all this.  That would
mean I should have kept my mouth shut."

   He turned back.  "This really isn't easy ...  this relationship stuff. I
see why all those women drifted away from me.  I'm somewhat indecisive, and
sort of natter on sometimes ...  huh."

   He picked up her blouse and handed it to her.

   "I just wanted to look at you one last time," he said.  "To fix you in
my memory.  If you don't want me to see you any more, I understand."

   She took the blouse, but her face was unreadable.  The hand that wasn't
holding the blouse, though, balled into a fist.  Woody stepped back one
more step, just in case he'd made her so mad she'd actually swing at him.
She put the blouse on, but didn't button it, like it was a habitual motion.
Then she walked past him, to the window, pulled the curtain back so she
could look outside, and then let it fall back.  Only the light by the bed
was on, so the room was relatively dark.

   She paced, not looking at Woody, and when she spoke, she spoke to the
room at large.

   "Before last night, I hadn't had sex with a man for eight years, seven
months, and twenty-one days.  During those eight years, seven months and
twenty-one days, I had between fifty and a hundred opportunities to have
sex with a man.  I didn't count them.  I'm estimating.  But I didn't have
sex with any of those men, because sex was all they wanted from me."

   Woody didn't say anything.  He'd asked her not to talk while he was
talking, so he gave her the same courtesy.

   "Before last night, I was embarrassed to be with most men, because I was
taller than they were.  Everybody knows that short men and tall women don't
work well, unless the man is old and rich, and the woman is young and
beautiful."

   "Before last night, I never once let a man put his penis in me, unless
he had on a condom.  Not even my husband.  That's because I wasn't ready to
have children, and I knew that.  By the time I felt qualified to take care
of a baby, I was divorced."

   She turned to him now, looking straight at him.  "You might remember
that last night, no one mentioned condoms."

   Woody nodded, his eyes big.  He hadn't even thought about it, until his
impending orgasm forced him to.

   "You tried to be a gentleman last night," she said.  "You offered to try
to protect me by withdrawing, even though us sex ed teachers are fully
aware that withdrawal is not a good form of birth control.  You may
remember that I objected to the idea of protecting me that way."

   He nodded again.  Of everything they had done, that was the part that
thrilled him the most, because she accepted something dangerous from him.
He had assumed it was because her passion overrode her common sense, but
decided to take the chance that one time.  He had a four pack of condoms in
his pocket right this minute, in fact, purchased on the assumption that
they would make love again.  Her outburst had changed all that, and he had
believed, despite the evidence to the contrary, that she wasn't interested
in a long distance relationship, or one that was going to involve hard
decisions, as this one would be if they pursued it.

   "You did not communicate your true feelings to me," she said.  "At least
not in words that were so easy to understand as those you just spoke a few
minutes ago.  I may have committed the same error, so I'll explain it to
you now."

   She sat down on the bed.  Woody was still standing, but was afraid that
if he moved, he'd break the mood.

   "I would never ...  ever ...  EVER," she emphasized "allow a man to put
his naked penis inside me, and ejaculate, unless I loved him enough to be
willing to have his baby."

   Woody opened his mouth, and she held up a hand.  She didn't even have to
remind him she hadn't been allowed to talk until he was finished.

   "And I would never ...  ever ...  EVER even THINK about having a man's
baby, unless I loved him so much that, whether he stayed with me or not, I
knew I would love him forever."

   She stood up, nervously.

   "I never met a man like that ...  not even the man I married ...  until
you smiled at me on that plane and said "Hi".  She paced again.  "I tried
to ignore you.  I was rude to you.  I insulted you.  When I finally
realized how wrong I was, I didn't want to believe it, because that meant I
had to try to trust you, and go through the steps to find out if it was
real or not, and I didn't want to try, because its so hard."

   She whirled.  "But you wouldn't leave me alone.  Fate even stepped in to
put us together as partners in this stupid seminar.  I wasn't looking for a
relationship, and I ended up in a seminar designed to create one!  Not only
that, it was a seminar for MARRIED people.  Do you remember what you said
last night, when I told you I wasn't on the pill?"

   "I said you'd have to marry me if you got pregnant," he said softly.

   "Do you remember what I said then?" she asked.

   "You said you'd marry me anyway," he whispered.  "I thought it was just
the passion of the moment."

   "Was what you said only the passion of the moment?" she asked.

   "No!" he said firmly.

   "What I said wasn't either." She walked until her breasts touched his
upper chest.  "It wasn't a proposal, Woody," she said.  "I was just telling
you how I felt about you."

   "Oh, wow!" he said, his hands coming to her waist.

   "Can't you understand how I'd be a little frustrated that we only have
two more days together?" she asked.  "All I did was complain a little bit,
and you went off the deep end."

   "I'm sorry," he said.  "I get excited sometimes."

   "I noticed that," she said.  "But that's not your only fault.  You
brought me here, MADE me come here, and almost made me cry, and I'm still
almost naked, and you have ALL your clothes on."

   "Would you feel better if you were completely naked?" asked Woody. 
"Instead of almost naked, I mean.  I'd help you get completely naked."

   "I don't want to tease you, and I don't want you to tease me today," she
said, not smiling.  "I want to let a man's naked penis in my pussy again,
and I don't care if he spurts a lot."

   They only made love for two hours.  Then he took her dancing for four
hours, and they came back and made love again, before falling asleep.  They
were asleep when it was time to go meet the others.  They missed the hot
tub conference completely.

   ========================================

   Chapter Twenty-four - Jeff and Roberta

   "What are we going to do?" asked Jeff.

   "We should probably try to do at least one thing that doesn't involve
sex, while we're here," said Roberta.

   "That's not what I meant," said Jeff.  "I mean what are we going to do
two days from now?"

   "Oh!" said Roberta.  "About us, you mean."

   "Yes, about us!" said Jeff.  "I can't go back home and just pick up
where I left off.  I'd go insane."

   "Tell me about Melanie," said Roberta.

   "What?" Jeff's mouth dropped open.  "I don't want to think about her
right now!"

   "Just tell me about her.  Describe her like you were trying to get a
friend of yours to take her out on a date."

   "You don't have to wait two days to go nuts," sighed Jeff.  "You already
went there."

   "Come on, Jeff.  I have an idea.  It's a crazy, insane idea, but ever
since the group started all this outside-the-box thinking this idea keeps
niggling at me."

   "What idea?" asked Jeff.

   "I don't want to tell you yet.  Describe Melanie and then I'll tell
you."

   So Jeff did.  He talked about how they met, and what she was like. 
Roberta wanted to know intimate details of what her body looked like, and
what kinds of things she liked.  She went on and on, asking him about the
movies she liked, and didn't like, and what kinds of restaurants she liked,
and the music she tuned into on the radio.  Jeff was more and more
mystified, but kept going.  He tried to keep it positive, but eventually he
described how spoiled she was, and how demanding she was, and how she
overspent on the budget.  He ended up, to his ultimate surprise, as
classifying her as ...  shallow.

   "Why she even married me is a mystery to me," said Jeff.  "She knew I
was going to be a teacher.  You'd have thought she'd know teachers don't
get paid squat.  She should have married a millionaire.  She'd make the
perfect trophy wife."

   Roberta stood there, a far away look in her eyes.

   "It really is crazy," she said, "but it might actually work."

   "What?!" said Jeff, his curiosity at a peak.

   She looked at him.  "Phillip is a go-getter.  He wants to be a
millionaire by the time he's thirty, and he's about three quarters of the
way there ...  at least on paper.  That's why he doesn't pay any attention
to me.  He's always working stocks, and glad-handing people, making deals,
and going to big events, where people with money are.  He used to take me
with him.  He said a wife can help motivate other people to trust him.  But
he stopped.  Now his secretary goes with him.  She's ...  blond ...  built
...  better looking than me.  I think he's sleeping with her too."

   "Eye candy," said Jeff, looking disgusted.  "He's nuts.  You're a
fascinating woman, and I think you're beautiful."

   "You're sweet," she said.  "But I know I'm not beautiful in that way.  I
don't do well in big crowds either.  I'm not ...  chatty.  I don't flirt."

   "So?" said Jeff.  "I still don't get it.  What does this have to do with
Melanie?"

   "You said her father's wealthy," said Roberta patiently.  "And she's ...
eye candy."

   Jeff's eyes opened wide as he suddenly got it.  "You're kidding!" he
gasped.

   "No I'm not!" said Roberta.  "What if we got them together?  She'd be
attracted to him.  He's so charismatic he can get me to do anything he
wants.  I couldn't even think about leaving him, even when I got mad,
because I couldn't imagine my life without him." She took Jeff's hand. 
"Until I met you." She squeezed his hand.  "And, when he finds out her
father has money, he'll be drawn to her too.  He'll want to work a deal
with her father.  He has good ideas, and they work.  He's just never had
enough money to make a really big deal.  He spends all his time working
little deals."

   "But he's going to be rich," said Jeff.  "You said so yourself.  All you
have to do is wait a little longer and he'll have what he wants, and start
paying attention to you again."

   "No he won't," said Roberta.  "He'll never have enough.  Once he has a
million, he'll think he needs five million.  I know him, Jeff.  He needs a
trophy wife, not a woman like me."

   "You'd give up a million dollars for me?" asked Jeff, his knees wobbly.

   "I'm not giving up a million dollars," she said.  "I'm getting a real
husband, who loves me more than his money, and I'm getting a father for my
babies." She leaned forward to kiss him.  "That's priceless."

   Jeff laughed.  "We're talking wife-swapping, and I mean that in the most
literal sense of the word.  That's as outside the box as anything I ever
heard in my life."

   "So, you think this is worth talking about some more?" asked Roberta,
hopefully.

   "Your room or mine?" he asked.

   "It doesn't matter," she said.  "We'll end up in bed in either one."

   "I like the way you think," said Jeff.

   They went to his room.  They did their talking in bed.

   ============================

   Chapter Twenty-five - Roger and Jane

   "What shall we do today?" asked Jane.  "I know what I want to do."

   "I do too," said Roger.  "I want to go to town."

   "Town?" she said.  "Why?"

   "I want to go someplace where there are lots of young girls," he said.

   She stared at him.

   "I'm trying to figure this out," he said.  "I need to go someplace that
usually gets my fantasy going."

   "I'll try to be your fantasy," she said, her voice trembling.

   "No," he said, patiently.  "Jane, honey, listen to me.  I think I love
you, but I need to know."

   "And you think that if you really love me, you won't get turned on my
young girls any more?" She shook her head.  "I can't compete with that. 
I'm not going to be young forever."

   "I don't know what anything means," he said, frustration in his voice.
"But I have to know about this.  I can't ...  I can't ask you to make any
plans until I get this figured out.  I know what I feel for you.  What I
don't know is what I'll feel ...  out there.  It isn't fair to either of us
to leave that question unanswered."

   "What if I still lust after my father?" asked Jane.

   "You already decided a long time ago that nothing will come of that,"
said Roger.

   "Can't you just decide that nothing will ever happen with any young
girl?" asked Jane.

   "I don't care if, while we're making love, you think of your father," he
said.  "At least not if it's only once in a while.  But I don't WANT to
think of some young girl when I'm making love with you.  I haven't so far,
but I haven't been tempted either.  Jane, sometimes, when I get home from
school, I masturbate three or four times before I go to sleep!"

   "Oh!" she said.  She was surprised, but not really shocked.  He'd
admitted he had a thing for young girls.  She hadn't realized it was THAT
much of a thing.  Still, with a little shiver of satisfaction, she
remembered that he'd gone four times in one day with her too.

   "OK," she said.  "Let's go to town and see if I can compete."

   "Don't put it that way," he said.  "This scares me."

   "I'll be with you," she said, taking his hand.  "You don't have to be
afraid.  I'll take good care of you and protect you from all those nasty
little girls."

   "Don't call them nasty little girls," he moaned.  "That's part of my
fantasy."

   "We need to go to my room first, though," she said.  "I need to change."

   "You look great, just like you are?" he said.

   "Thank you," she said smiling.  "Humor me.  In fact, I won't be but just
a minute.  Go ahead and find us a cab and I'll be right back.

   Roger was standing in the open back door of a cab when Jane ran to meet
him.  Even as small as she was, he could see her breasts bobbing up and
down.  She'd put on a peach colored blouse.  He could see the darkness of
her areolas and nipples through it.  She'd taken off her bra when she
changed blouses.

   "My, my," he said, leering at her.

   It wasn't until she was seated next to him in the back seat, hip to hip,
and the cab had started moving, that she leaned over, licked his ear, and
whispered.

   "I'm not wearing panties either.  Is that nasty enough for you?"

   ================================

   Chapter Twenty-six - Chuck and Tiffany

   "A whole day to spend with each other!" said Tiffany, almost skipping
along.

   "I haven't spent a whole day with a woman in ...  maybe ever!" said
Chuck.

   Tiffany stopped, and turned.

   "We know we're compatible in bed," she said, smiling.  "Want to find out
if we're compatible in other ways?"

   "Desperately," he said.

   "I think there's an amusement park in Phoenix."

   Twenty minutes later they were dressed for walking, and talking to one
of the cab drivers out front.  They asked him about amusement parks.

   "Castles and Coasters," he said, nodding his head.  "There are some
others, but they're mostly for kids.  You want Castles and Coasters."

   It turned out they were compatible out of bed too.  They liked the same
kind of rides, and the same kind of junk food.  He tried to win her a teddy
bear by throwing rings in the midway game area.  By the time he'd spent
twice as much as a bear in the store would have cost, she finally convinced
him to give up.  Then she crowed triumphantly when, on her very first throw
with a dart, she got her pick of things on the third shelf up, where the
good stuff was.

   She picked a pair of pompons.

   "You're kidding," said Chuck, feeling his prick stiffen.

   "I told you I'd do some cheers for you," she said, smiling.

   "Oh, baby," he moaned.

   "Not this week," she said, off handedly.  "It's the wrong time of the
month for that."

   He stopped, and wobbled.  "You're not on the pill?" he asked weakly.

   "Why in the world would I be on the pill?" she asked, waving her pompons
in the air, experimentally.  "I don't have sex."

   "You had sex with me," he said, his face pale.

   "As I recall, you took me like a cave man," said Tiffany, jumping up in
the air.  One bent leg went forward, and the other bent leg went backward.
Her arms went to her sides, and up, the pompons fluttering in the air.  She
landed with her feet together, and the pompons snapped down to her thighs.
She looked like she was standing at attention.  "Look at that!" she said,
beaming.  "I still have it."

   "What if I got you pregnant, Tiffany?" he moaned.

   "Like I said, wrong time of the month.  Now, when you come see me next
two weekends from now, and I'm ovulating ...  THEN you might get me
pregnant."

   "I'm coming to see you?" he said, weakly.

   "You'd better," she said.  "After all you've put me through this week, I
expect great things from you, Chuck."

   "I just signed a contract!" he groaned.

   "Me too," said Tiffany.  "That's why you have to come see me in two
weeks."

   "Huh?" he looked confused.

   "The only way I have of breaking my contract is the pregnancy clause,"
she said.  "School doesn't start for three months.  I can get out of
teaching at six months.  That gives me three months to move to ...  where
did you say you live?"

   "Hampton," said Chuck, looking for a place to sit down.  All there was
handy was a coin-operated cartoon-looking car.  He got in, scrunching his
knees up against his chest.

   "What are you doing?" asked Tiffany, laughing.

   "I had to sit down, or I'd fall down," he explained.

   "Well, as I was saying, that will give me three months to pack up and
move to Hampton, where, the school year after that, I hope to find
employment."

   "You're coming to Hampton?" he asked, sounding dazed.

   "Sure," she said off handedly.  "I know a guy there.  I'm hoping he'll
let me crash with him ...  just until I get settled and have the baby and
all that."

   "Are you nuts?!" he gasped.  "You can't just get pregnant to get out of
teaching, so you can come shack up with me.  That's insane!"

   "You don't want me to come to Hampton?" she asked, sounding injured.

   "Of course I do!" he yelled.  "But you can't just come shack up with me.
You have to marry me!"

   "I thought you'd never ask," she said, beaming.  "I accept."

   He banged his head three times, trying to pry his body out of the kiddy
car.  She laughed, instead of helping him.

   He wanted to go back to the resort ...  to celebrate, but she insisted
that they stay at Castles and Coasters for a little while longer.  Then she
took him shopping, and after that to dinner.  On the ride back to the
resort, she reminded him that the group was meeting in the hot tub.

   "I can't wait that long!" he moaned.  "I just got engaged.  I want to
celebrate!"

   "You can celebrate after the hot tub," she said.  "Just drag me away
from the group by my hair.  I know they'll understand."

   "Don't worry," he said.  "I won't lose control again like that."

   "You mean all this delaying stuff I've been doing is going to come to
nothing?" she asked.

   "You've been teasing me?" he yelped.

   "It's just practice for when we're married," she said, grinning.

   =================================

   Chuck and Tiffany got to the hot tub a little late.  That's because
Chuck, once they were at the room to change into swimming suits, ambushed
Tiffany, the way she had ambushed him.  He didn't drag her by her hair, but
he put her on the bed the exact same way he'd done the last time.  She
fought, and she fought hard, but he was too strong for her.  Once he
penetrated her, though, all the fight went out of her.  From then on, he
had to concentrate to keep from being bucked off the mare he'd chosen to
ride.

   ===================================

   Chapter Twenty-seven - Bob and Lori

   When the others had left, Bob looked at Lori.  She looked pleased.

   "What are you so happy about?" he asked.

   "I get to spend the whole day with you," she said.  "I want to be
ravished again."

   "I told you last night," he said patiently.  "Your casual attitude about
pregnancy not-withstanding, I'm not at all sure I want to make you that
way."

   "Could you really make me pregnant in just a week?" she asked.

   "It only takes one sperm cell," he said.

   "You put WAY more than one in me last night," she said, a silly grin on
her face.

   She was remembering what she would consider to be the best night of her
life until the night her first child was born.  Only that could displace
what Bob had done to her, and for her, the night before, in his bedroom.

   At any other time she'd have been overawed by the house.  It WAS fancy.
But she was in heat, and she wanted Bob to do something about it.  His King
sized bed was the only thing in the house she was interested in.  When she
pulled her shirt over her head, exposing her perky, up-thrust breasts, and
pushed her sweat pants down, she was ready to go.

   Bob taught her about oral sex first.  She took to it like it was a
genetic gift.  He kissed her and petted her and dug his finger up inside
her until she was beside herself with passion, and then he mounted her.  He
didn't give her time to think about it.  Her hymen was already gone, so
only the physical sensation of being stretched would be a problem.

   She wasn't surprised, at least not in the way Bob had thought she might
be.  Lori had the capacity to visualize the future, based on her current
understanding of reality.  She had visualized Bob on top of her, so, when
he ended up there, his prick forcing her virgin pussy lips open, she wasn't
surprised at the pain of her first penetration.  She was quite aware of the
biology of the human female anatomy, as far as seeing the girth of Bob's
penis, and comparing that with what she could feel about herself.  He had
warned her of pain, and when she felt that, she felt ...  normal.

   It was for that reason that she took her defloration with a calm ... 
almost dignified attitude, knowing that, as addicted as people seemed to be
to this mysterious thing called "sex", there would be a payoff, if she was
just patient.

   That was when she got surprised.  She was surprised at how she felt,
once her pussy relaxed and adapted to Bob's length.  She was surprised that
it felt completely different than his finger did.  It wasn't just better
... it was completely different.  She was surprised when he began moving in
her and she thought she might die from the pleasure of it all.  This wasn't
good ...  wasn't fabulous ...  wasn't even fantastic.  This was something
she had nothing to compare with ...  had no word for.  What she felt, in
those few seconds before an orgasm flushed through her body, was that she
hoped it would never stop ...  ever ...  for any reason.

   Her orgasm seemed like a comfortable old friend, compared with how she'd
felt by being stretched and stroked by her first penis.  That it was more
intense, she could deal with, because now she knew what to expect.  Then,
as her moans died down, and the orgasm faded, she looked up to see Bob
grinning, and remembered that she could have several orgasms in a row.

   "Don't cum," she panted.

   "I told you to let me wear a condom," he said, his smile fading.

   "No," she gasped.  "Not what I meant." She dragged in several deep
breaths.  "I don't want to wait for you to get hard again.  Do that to me
again right now ...  then you can cum."

   Bob was inflamed in ways he'd never been inflamed before.  He did it to
her twice more, and, just as he began to hear pain in her voice, as her
pussy finally had too much, he slumped and groaned, trying his male best to
fertilize his mate.

   Half an hour later, Lori found out how the mind can be willing, but the
body fails.  She wanted him in her again, but she was sore.  In a fit of
thinking way outside the box, she went to the refrigerator and got five ice
cubes, which she then stuffed up inside her pussy.  She decided that was a
mistake, almost immediately, and writhed as Bob laughed at her.  She pushed
them back out, and, one by one, she threw them at Bob for laughing at her.

   He taught her how to be on top, so she could regulate penetration. 
Twenty minutes later she was bouncing up and down lustily, her buttocks
bouncing off his abdomen, as she tried to get him as deep as possible.  She
had one orgasm that way, but the rest of the time seemed to be playing with
him, more than trying to "have sex" with him.  She wanted him to tell her
when he was going to spurt again, and wanted to know if there was anything
she could to do help him spurt.

   Five minutes after that, she sat, eyes closed, stock still, as his penis
flexed and twitched inside her, jets of his semen coating her cervix.

   "I thought that's what I felt last time," she sighed.  "It felt all warm
inside me, but I wasn't sure.  I like that part best of all."

   "That's the part that will make you pregnant," he panted.

   "I know," she sighed again.  "I think I might be done for a while."

   ============================

   It turned out she was ...  but only for a while.  Like some people are
addicted to crack, the first time they smoke it, Lori was addicted to
prick, the first time she felt one in her.  She loved having his prick in
her from the first time he slid into her, and she did anything she could
for the rest of the night to get it back in her.

   She wanted to be shown all the positions, because he had to put it in
her to show her each one.  Then she said he should fuck her for a little
while, just so she could figure out if she liked this position, or that
one. He caught on, eventually, but didn't really mind.  Lori was one of
those women who just like to fuck.  She liked orgasms, but they weren't
absolutely necessary for her to have a great time.  She liked being close
to a man, and getting his sweat on her, and getting hers on him, for that
matter.  Bodily fluids didn't bother her a bit, either hers or his.  By
one, in the morning, when he finally laid down the law and threatened to
take her back to the conference center, she finally desisted.

   She didn't sleep though.  Not right away.  She asked for a book to read,
explaining that was how she usually went to sleep.  It was a lie.  When Bob
drifted off, she closed the book and just looked at him.  Her hand went
between her still naked legs, and she felt the slipperiness that was ... 
him.  She watched him for maybe half an hour, her eyes just drinking in the
man who meant the most to her in the whole world.  Then, very gently and
softly, she kissed his temple, and lay down beside him.  Trying not to wake
him, she scooted next to him and laid her hand on his chest.

   Then, concentrating on the heavy, warm, wet feeling inside her, where
all his sperm was, she was finally able to go to sleep.

   =========================

   Her eyes cleared and she looked at Bob, here in the conference room.

   "WAY more than one," she said, showing him her braces.

   "I'm not going to make love to you all day long," he said, exasperated.

   "I know that!" she said.  "Do they have miniature golf here?"

   She tired him out as they hopped from one activity to another, all day
long.  She let him buy her five more outfits, but insisted they be
purchased at one of the big box discount stores.  While they were there,
she got a swim suit, a bikini that was quite modest, actually, since it was
in the young miss department that they found one to fit her.

   Then, on the pretext of getting something to eat before meeting the
others at the hot tub that evening, she got him to take her back to his
house, where she wore him out in another way, getting another load of his
heavy spunk deep in her belly.

   =============================

   Chapter Twenty-eight - The Hot Tub Conference

   That evening, Bob and Lori got to the hot tub first.  That's because Bob
knew that if he didn't get the woman out of his bed, she'd get ANOTHER
helping of Bob's patented baby makers in here womb.  While she seemed to
completely disregard the danger of being fucked in every position in the
book, he didn't.  Once he'd gotten to know this girl/woman, he found a
unique and fascinating person inside her young looking body.  She could
think clearly and concisely, which was one reason he knew she was aware of
the risks they were taking, having unprotected sex.  That she did so
anyway, he had chalked up to virgin passion overriding common sense.  Lori,
though, was now as far removed from being a virgin as it's possible to be.
The only orifice she hadn't taken his prick into was her anus, and she
liked having his finger there, depending on what they were doing.

   Sitting in the hot tub, right now, was a good example.  Her new swim
suit wasn't so tight that Bob's hand wouldn't fit into it, and, since they
were alone, in the place she had felt her first orgasm, she wanted to feel
another one.  She'd floated over to sit on his lap as soon as they were
both in, even though they were the only people in the tub.  Then, she
calmly took his hand and put it in her bikini bottoms, spreading her legs
and leaning back against his chest.  He had plugged a finger into her and
was slowly bringing her to the orgasm she had politely asked him for.

   "Tickle my back hole," she said, moaning into his ear.  "I wish I was
naked.  We could fuck right here in the water, couldn't we?"

   Bob sighed.

   "You know, there's more to me than just my fingers and prick."

   "I know that," she said, wiggling her bottom against his finger, which
was pushing at her anus.  It popped inside, with difficulty, because the
water didn't really provide much lubrication.

   "Do women really let a man put his penis in there?" she asked, arching
her back.

   "Some women do," he said.

   "I like your finger there," she said.  "But I don't think I'd like
anything bigger than that.  It feels ...  I don't know ...  I can't
describe it."

   "It mimics the feeling of when you have to go to the bathroom really
bad," he explained.  "You know how good it feels to finally be able to go?"

   "Yes," she said, wiggling some more.  "That's really gross to think
about, though."

   "Well, just like something feels really good coming out of that hole,
some women like the feeling of something going in."

   "That's OK," she said, pulling his hand out.  She surged forward, turned
around, pulled his buttocks away from the wall, and straddled him, rubbing
her mons against the front of his suit.  "I like your penis going in my
vagina best."

   "Not here, please," he said.

   "Oh, come on, nobody's around."

   "Think about this for a second," he said, reasonably.  "Look at the
difference between how you acted when you got here, and ...  now."

   She stopped rubbing, and actually thought about that.

   "I like now better than then," she said, simply.  "I'm not scared any
more.  Not with you, anyway."

   "Well, there's a time and place for everything, and right now this is
not the time or place to make love," he said.  "I am glad, though, that
you're not so frightened of sex any more."

   "Not with you," she said, leaning forward to kiss his chin.  She started
rubbing again, as if she hadn't heard the first part of his comment.  "The
thing that used to scare me the most was getting pregnant.  My mother said
I'd get pregnant if I ever had sex, and that having a baby took hours and
hours, and was the most horrible pain in the world."

   "Based on the fact that you wouldn't let me use a condom, it appears
you're not so scared of that any more," said Bob, his voice wry.

   "I can't wait to be pregnant," she said, rubbing harder.  "My mother was
so wrong about so many things, she must have been wrong about that too. 
Everything else she said to never do has been so much fun, and felt so
good, that having a baby just HAS to be a wonderful thing."

   "Being pregnant is the last thing you need right now," said Bob
seriously.

   "I know," she said, her eyes beginning to go out of focus.  He realized
she was about to have an orgasm, just from rubbing on him, and talking
about being pregnant.  "But I can't help wanting it.  Would you kiss me
please?"

   He did, and she shuddered through her orgasm.  Bob pulled back to see
Roger and Jane standing by the tub.  They had apparently been watching.

   "Mmmm that one was good," sighed Lori.

   She saw Bob's eyes looking past her, and turned her upper body.

   "Jane!  Roger!" she squealed.  "Come on in.  We've been waiting for
you!" There wasn't the slightest trace of shame in her voice, even though
Bob knew she was probably aware that these two had watched her have an
orgasm.

   They climbed in, and arranged themselves across the tub from Bob and
Lori, who stayed on Bob's lap, but sat sideways.

   "Can I ask you a question?" Lori said, looking at Jane.

   "Sure," said Jane, who was looking at Lori with an odd expression.

   "If I wanted to find out what it was like to make love with a different
man ...  could I borrow Roger?" Her voice was earnest, and her face made it
clear she was as serious as the day is long.  "Just once, of course," she
added, like it was protocol, when asking to borrow one's lover.

   Jane's mouth dropped open, and then closed, only to drop open again. 
Her eyes were wide.  She looked like she was trying to impersonate a fish.
Roger seemed to have something caught in his throat, suddenly, because he
coughed and cleared his throat several times.  Bob let his head fall back
on the edge of the tub, and stared up at the ceiling of the overhang that
protected the tub from the elements.  He groaned.

   Lori looked at Bob, and then at the other two.

   "What?  Did I say something wrong?"

   "People don't borrow each other's lovers, sweetheart," said Bob, lifting
his head.

   "They did on TV.  You even talked about it in the seminar," said Lori,
frowning.

   "OK," he said, "but you don't just ask about it like that."

   "Why not?" she asked.  Again, it was clear she was quite serious. 
"Didn't you say we're supposed to communicate clearly?  You know ...  about
whatever is on our mind?"

   "He did," said Roger, smiling.  "And, in this particular group, that's
probably fine.  You just surprised us, that's all, Lori.  I wouldn't
recommend being quite that frank and honest back home, though.  Some people
might be offended."

   "I'm sorry," said Lori, her frown deepening.  "Did I offend you?"

   "No," said Roger.  Jane's head snapped around to look at him.  "You
surprised me, and I'm flattered, but it really wouldn't be fair to Jane."

   "Why not?" asked Lori.  "I'm sure Bob would be happy to have sex with
her too.  He's really good at it too." She blinked and looked at Bob.  "At
least I think so.  I'm not very experienced at all this."

   "Do tell," said Jane, finally able to say something without either
raging, or laughing.

   "Sweetie, you can't just trade men without at least having a discussion
about it," said Bob.

   "Isn't that what we're doing?" asked Lori, looking confused.

   "I feel pretty monogamous about being with Jane," said Roger, who saw
Jeff and Roberta heading their way.  "Oh look," he said, trying to change
the subject.  "Here come Jeff and Roberta."

   The other couple came to the tub, smiling, and began to climb in.  They
got the same greeting Jane and Roger had.

   "What's up?" asked Roberta.

   "You don't want to know," said Jane, the odd look on her face
punctuating her comment.

   Bob knew that Lori hadn't been trying to be perverse, or tease.  She
was, at this point in her life, like a girl from a small village, that
subsists only on rice, who has been exposed to a complete buffet that she'd
heard about, but could only imagine.  It wasn't odd that she wondered if
everything, including the table decorations, were edible.  He also knew
that Jane was upset, and he didn't want that to spread.

   "Lori was just discussing the possibility of sharing partners," he said,
his voice even.  "I think she's just curious."

   "Sharing partners," said Jeff, thinking immediately about Jane's plan.
"We've been talking about that too," he said, without thinking that through
first.

   "Oh really!" said Jane, weakly.

   Roberta's shock at his comment was clear, though, and that caused
everyone in the tub, except Lori, to realize that there was a LOT more to
that comment than it looked like on the surface.

   "I wasn't aware that we were going to discuss that with the others,"
said Roberta, frostily.

   "I'm sorry," said Jeff, looking at her beseechingly.  "It just popped
out."

   Lori was ...  Lori.  "But how could you do that, if you didn't talk
about it with any of us?" she asked, clearly seeking a real answer.

   "Not here!" said Jeff, trying to get out of trouble.  "Not with any of
you, I mean," he said, digging himself deeper.

   "I don't understand," said Lori.  "There's so much I still don't
understand," she said sadly.  "If you don't want to trade partners here,
who would you want to trade with?"

   Roberta was looking daggers at Jeff, who actually separated himself from
her by a foot.  He finally decided to just stop talking, realizing he
couldn't win in this situation, no matter what he said.

   Jane was looking at the two of them with less anger on her face, though.
Her instincts told her these two were not just horny adults who would
settle for sex anywhere they could get it.  Like most of the others, she
knew there was a story behind his blurted comments, and she was curious.

   Roberta looked from face to face, around here.  Since Jeff had stopped
talking, everyone was looking at her.  She felt alone, and inched toward
the man who had, most recently, made her feel safe.

   "We fell in love," she said softly.  "We didn't mean to ...  it just
happened."

   No one said anything.  The silence was so profound that Roberta couldn't
stand it.

   "We want to stay together," she went on.  "but of course, we're both
married."

   Even Lori had nothing to say.

   Roberta sagged and got it over with.  "We thought that our spouses ...
being like they are ...  might be interested in each other ...  if we got
them together."

   "Oh my word!" said Jane, her mouth beginning to do the fish impression
again.

   Bob, though, had to laugh.  His chuckle made all eyes turn to him.

   "Now THAT, is creative thinking," he said.  "Do you think it might
actually work?"

   Roberta, who had thought the idea was insanity incarnate, had felt a lot
better when Jeff had climbed on board.  She wasn't a stupid woman, of
course, and, in the back of her mind, knew that Jeff's agreement might be
based on something less reliable than rational thought, but she felt better
about it anyway, because she wanted to believe it was a good idea.  Now
Bob, who she had a great deal of respect for, for a variety of reasons, had
entertained the idea without saying it was stupid.  That, despite her
embarrassment about the idea becoming public, made her feel a lot better.

   "Maybe," she said, her voice high.  "It's all I could think of."

   Bob put on his psychologist hat for a moment.  "Well, while I'm sad
about the breakup of two marriages, I hope things work out well for all of
you." He grinned then.  "If it does, I'd really like to know about it. 
That's an option even I never thought of, and it might come in handy in
some future seminar."

   Roberta had calmed down enough to expend some wrath on Jeff.  She turned
to him.  "You have a big mouth!" she said.  "If this IS going to work,
you're going to have to be a WHOLE lot more in control of yourself than you
just were!"

   "I know," he moaned.  "Like I said, it just popped out.  Things are so
open here ...  you know?"

   "Wait!" said Lori, who had processed everything she had heard, and
finally understood what was going on.  "You mean you're going to actually
trade spouses?  For real, I mean?  Permanently?" Her voice climbed about as
high as it could go.  She looked at Bob.  "People actually DO that?"

   "Not often," he said, smiling.  "In fact, I'd say it's probably very
unusual, but I bet it's happened before."

   "I don't want to do THAT," said Lori.  "I just wondered if making love
with Roger would be different than making love with you.  I don't want to
trade permanently!"

   "Don't worry," said Bob, soothingly.  "We're just talking about things.
All we're doing is being honest with each other about what we're thinking."


   Bob looked at Jane as he said that, and her eyes went wide as she
finally understood that Lori was doing exactly that, and nothing more.  Her
assumption that Lori was a conniving little bitch made her feel horrible.
She knew the girl didn't have a mean bone in her body, but had made the
assumption anyway.

   "Lori?" said Jane.  Lori turned to look at the woman.  "I didn't mean to
be rude to you.  It's just that ...  well ...  something happened today
that made me realize that Roger and I might be able to have a very happy
life together, and I got a little jealous when you asked if you could just
borrow him, like that."

   =======================

   What had happened was that she had taken him to a mall, that was
overflowing with nubile young girls, in scanty outfits, who were quite
intentionally putting themselves on display for the men around them, almost
like they were for sale, and competing to see who got bought first.  The
effect on Roger had, at first, made her very unhappy, because he was
obviously interested in those girls.  Before long, it was clear that he
didn't really have control over his reaction.  They didn't talk about it,
as they walked slowly through the mall, but he could see her
disappointment. He was a little disappointed in himself too.  But, as he
looked at the woman walking beside him, he also realized something else
too.

   At one point, he'd stopped, faced her, and said "You know, they turn me
on something fierce." Her face hadn't changed, but he knew she was unhappy.
"But the funny thing is," he went on, I'm looking at it like Bob described
it.  I check them out, and classify them as potential mates.  I have to
admit that lots of them go on the 'approved' list." he saw her face
tighten. "But," he went on, "the funny thing is that, when I think about
bed ...  the only one I can think about being there with ...  is you."

   "Really?" she asked, hope seeping into her eyes.  "You're not just
saying that to make me feel better, are you?"

   "Jane, sweetheart, I'll probably always look at other women, but I only
want you.  Can you live with that?"

   "You only want me?" she asked.

   "Only you, in reality ...  in bed with me." He frowned.  "I guess I have
two lists.  There's the list of ones that might be interesting in my
fantasy ...  and the list of those I'd really actually think about taking
to bed.  The first list is long.  The second only has one on it."

   "I'll think about it," she said, being honest.

   Later, as they were walking by a jewelry store, Roger felt her hand in
his, and realized she wasn't wearing her engagement ring.

   "Where's Jed's ring?" he asked.

   "I told you, there is no Jed, any more," she said.  "Even if it turns
out I can't live with you wanting only me, but looking at girls ...  there
still isn't Jed any more."

   ==============================

   Now, as Jane thought about what had just happened, and that a patently
young looking girl had asked to `borrow' Roger, she remembered his last
response, just before they were interrupted by Jeff and Roberta.  He had
told the girl he was monogamous.  She turned to him now.

   "Roger, I really shouldn't be jealous like that.  We're not married.  If
you'd like to satisfy Lori's curiosity, I shouldn't mind."

   Roger stared at her.  His eyebrows flickered to a slight frown, and them
smoothed out.  He turned to Lori.

   "Tell you what, Lori," he said, his voice amiable.  "I'll give you my
address when we leave here.  In a year, if you're still curious, give us a
call, and we'll talk about it again."

   "Us?" asked Roberta, feminine curiosity leaping out of her voice.

   "Jane and I," said Roger.  "I hope we're still together in a year from
now ...  married, if at all possible."

   "You asked her to MARRY YOU?" squealed Roberta.

   "No, he did NOT!" said Jane, standing up in the tub.

   "We haven't quite gotten that far, yet," said Roger.  He smiled around
the tub, ignoring the woman standing over him.  "I'm waiting until she's a
little calmer to bring that up."

   Now it was Jane who was doing the fish impression.  Roger reached for
her hand and pulled her onto his lap.  He held her against him, as she
began to struggle, and cupped both breasts to hold her to him.  Everyone
could see what he was doing.  Jane pushed at his hands, and yelled
"ROGER!". His hands flashed downwards and she squealed, leaning forwards,
trying to escape.  Finally her hands came up out of the water, holding his.
She folded them under her breasts, and kept her hands on his.  She was
blushing furiously.

   "Men!" snorted Roberta.  "They only have one thing on their minds."

   That led to Jeff attacking her, and she had to defend herself in much
the same way Jane had, as he groped her body and she wiggled and splashed.
When they had finally settled down, and everyone looked around, just about
all of them laughed.  Lori had pulled Bob's hands to her breasts, and was
leaning back, enjoying it as he squeezed them.  His crooked grin announced
that he wasn't going to try to be polite.

   Within ten minutes, even though the conversation went on to light chat,
nobody seemed to care where hands were, or what they were doing.

   That's when Tiffany and Chuck arrived.  After she finally escaped from
bed, Tiffany had picked up the brush, to brush her hair.  Chuck had come up
from behind her, reaching around to fondle her breasts, and pushed his,
again, hard prick between her buttocks.  In the process of trying to manage
him, and get him into a swim suit, and get herself in her bikini, all
without ending up in bed again, she'd forgotten all about her hair.  She
looked like what she was ...  a woman who just got out of bed, after a wild
time.

   She took in a deep breath as she walked up to the tub and saw Bob's
hands playing with Lori's breasts ...  under her swim suit.  She looked
over at Roberta, and saw Jeff's hands doing the same thing.  When she
looked at Jane, sitting on Roger's lap, she sighed as she saw Jane's
securely covered breasts, with no hands on them.  Jane's eyes looked
glazed, though, and, in a freak moment where the swirling water cleared,
she saw Roger's hand, busy in the bottom of Jane's swim suit.  Then the
water roiled again.

   "Ohhhh nooooo," she moaned.

   "Hi!" said Roberta, pushing at Jeff's hands.  "What's wrong?"

   "I just escaped being ravished, to drag him out here," moaned Tiffany,
"and here you are all playing grab and feel!"

   "Join the club," said Bob, slipping his hands out of Lori's top.  She
promptly captured them and tried to put them back.

   "This is all your fault!" said Tiffany, in mock anger, to Bob.

   "I just give the seminars," said Bob.  "I don't usually join in.  All it
is, is information.  All I did was give you information."

   "No you didn't!" said Tiffany, climbing over the edge of the tub.  Chuck
helped her by grabbing her ass, and she slapped at him.  She turned to find
Roger staring at her cleavage.

   "And you!" she said to Roger.  "You have your hand in a woman's pants,
and you're still staring at my boobs!"

   "Don't make her jealous," said Roger, rolling his eyes.  "I just got her
over being mad at me for almost trading her for Lori."

   "What?!" Tiffany stood up, hands on her hips, and glared at Roger.  Jane
wasn't paying any attention.  Her body jerked and a low moan escaped her
mouth.

   "Sit down," said Bob.  "Things seem to have gotten a little out of
control."

   "A LITTLE?!" gasped Tiffany.  "If you think I'm trading partners now,
you're crazy!  I just got him to propose!"

   That penetrated to Jane's lust-fogged mind, and her eyes cleared.

   "Congratulations," she sighed.  "Roger wants to marry me too.  I'm just
not sure what to do about it.  I can't think too clearly when his hand is
in my pants."

   Then her eyes cleared even more and she realized what she'd just said.
She moaned, and her hands came out of the water to cover her face.

   "Stop it, Roger!" she moaned.  "Look what you made me do!"

   Roger grinned, and his hands came up out of the water.  He looked at
Tiffany.

   "I didn't want to trade either.  I think she's a little miffed, because
if she agreed to loan me to Lori, she was going to get Bob in return.  I
said no, and the deal fell through."

   "I will NOT marry you if you tell whoppers like that to everyone we
meet!" yelled Jane, her face flaming red.

   Tiffany raised her hands.

   "Can't we just be plain, ordinary, NORMAL adults?  Just for once? 
Wouldn't that be fun to try?"

   Bob grinned.  "This seminar hasn't been normal since you all walked
through the door.  I had no idea things would turn out like they have. 
There's a doctoral thesis in the events surrounding this seminar.  I
couldn't have dreamed of planning something like this.  I'm having the best
time of my life."

   "That's because you got to conquer a poor, innocent girl, who until she
met you, had her feet on the ground, even if she was a little innocent. 
Now you've debauched her completely, you letch!" fumed Tiffany.

   "Is that what this is?" asked Lori.  "I just thought I was in love."

   "You've debauched us ALL!" Tiffany moaned.

   "Are you unhappy about this, Tiffany?" asked Bob, grinning.  "Come on,
tell us how you really feel."

   Tiffany waded over to Bob, and leaned down, with her face an inch from
his.

   "I'm going to get pregnant, because of your seminar," she growled.  "And
I'm going to give up my job, and move to Hampton-fucking-Idaho, to marry
the man who will probably make me pregnant four or five more times before I
have the sense to get my tubes tied.  I'll probably have fifteen
grandchildren, and grow old so deliriously happy that they won't be able to
get the smile off my face when they bury me!  Do YOU think I should be
HAPPY about THAT?"

   She stood back up, a triumphant look on her face, which faded as she saw
Bob's confused look.

   "Wait," she said.  "What did I just say?  She went over it in her mind.
"That's not what I meant to say!" she said hurriedly.  "That's not it at
all."

   Bob was grinning again.

   "Nice try, Tiffany.  You can backpedal all you want, but we know how you
really feel now.  Congratulations.  I don't suppose, if the first one's a
boy, you'd consider naming him Robert?"

   "OOOOOOOOO!" fumed Tiffany, hitting the water with her fists.  "I hate
men!" She charged over to Chuck, who was sitting there, minding his own
business.  Water splashed and surged from her forceful passage, and her
shoulder strap fell off her shoulder.  As she plopped down on Chuck's lap,
the water, returning to the other side of the tub, flipped her bikini top
down, baring her left breast.

   "I'll help you," said Chuck, his voice impersonating the hero in an old
time movie.  He put his hand over her breast and pressed it against her.

   Tiffany looked down at his hand, and then around at the people in the
tub, all of whom were about to laugh.

   "Who wants to swap me for Chuck?" she asked, suddenly.

   ==============================

   It took another twenty minutes for things to settle down.  Part of that
was because, when Tiffany and Chuck were brought up to date on everything
that had happened, it got them all going again.  Eventually, though, they
calmed down and actually became the adults that Tiffany had wanted them to
be.

   "Where are Crystal and Woody?" asked Lori, suddenly.

   "Why, you want to try him out too?" asked Jane, who was sitting sideways
on Roger's lap.  She was smiling, though, and her voice was light.

   "Maybe," said Lori, making her first-ever sexually oriented joke.  She
stuck her tongue out at Jane, who stuck hers out in return.

   "Oh, look!" said Roger.  "Lesbian foreplay!"

   "I'll save you!" yelled Chuck, instantly, and promptly pulled Tiffany's
face around to kiss her firmly.  His hand went to her now-covered breast.

   Lori, astounding them all by getting that joke, turned to Bob and
squealed "Save me, save me," and kissed him too.

   Roger put his hand back in Jane's lap and stroked her.  All he said was
"Hussy!"

   "I can see this was a waste of time," said Bob, when Lori pulled back.
"We're not going to get anything done here.  You all may as well go back to
what you were doing before.  I don't think it would be a good idea to do
that here."

   "We could all go back to your house," said Lori, her voice perky.  "Your
hot tub is private, and we can do whatever we want to there."

   "You have a house?" asked Roberta.  "No wonder we never saw you and Lori
around."

   Bob sighed.  "Well, what the hell.  Things can't get any more messed up
than they already are.  Anybody want to move the party to my house?"

   "No swapping partners!" said Tiffany darkly.

   "Nobody will bother either Tiffany or Chuck, is that clear?" said Bob.

   "Why didn't you say anything about us?" asked Jane.

   "Roger already said he's not available for another year," said Bob.

   "What?" asked Tiffany.  "Nobody told me that part!"

   "We'll tell you all about it at the house.  Go get dressed.  Bring your
swim suits ...  or not ...  I don't care.  I'm not going to make any rules.
You guys can make your own, if you want any.

   "What about Crystal and Woody?  asked Roberta.

   Bob grinned.  "I suspect they're busy getting better acquainted.  If you
all are any guide to go by, he's probably either getting her pregnant, or
asking her to marry him." He stood up.  "Be back in ten minutes, if you're
going.  The bus leaves then."

   =================================

   Chapter Thirty - After the orgy

   The aftermath, understandably, left all of them embarrassed.  None of
the women, with the possible exception of Lori, felt like they could just
turn around and face everyone else.  Lori just loved staring into Bob's
eyes, especially when he had filled her full of sperm.  For the others, it
was easier to stare into the face of their lovers, who had just inseminated
them all.  Those lovers, feeling the tenseness of their mates, did some
kissing, along with whispers of thanks, which didn't really do anything to
lessen the women's embarrassment, but did make them feel better, somehow.

   Again, it was Lori who supplied the stimulus that moved things forward.

   "I'm hungry," she said, her voice high.  "Did you get anything to eat?"

   "Full spread in the kitchen," said Bob, interested, in a professional
way, to see how these people reacted, after what was clearly an unplanned
and astonishingly erotic situation.  It was the first time he'd been in a
group sex situation, but he ignored his own feelings, because of the
opportunity to study the others.  He could always reflect on what this
meant to him later.

   Lori simply got off him, and waded to the steps leading out of the tub.
As she climbed over the edge, her young pussy wept thick, white sperm, in
clear view of everyone present, all of whom were looking.

   Bob grinned, thinking of the company that sent a guy over monthly to
service the tub.  The filter would be interesting, the next time the guy
showed up.

   "I'll go get some towels," said Lori brightly, standing there naked,
sperm running down her inner thighs.

   She bounded off, running like a young deer.

   The conversion from staying face to face, to the women sitting sideways
on their men's laps, happened slowly.  Bob stood up and, trying to act
normal, climbed out of the tub too.  There were no traces that his penis
had just been involved in intercourse.  It hung, like it had, lying on his
ball sack.  He picked up his clothing.  Instead of talking, which probably
wouldn't do any good, he just walked off toward the back door.

   "What do we do now?" asked Roberta, nervously.

   "It's silly to put our suits back on, just to get out and change," said
Tiffany.  "I'm just going to get out."

   She stood, and one would have thought she was completely at home,
parading naked in front of them, were it not for the bright red flesh of
her upper chest, and cheeks.  Chuck stood and followed her.  There was no
way to get out gracefully, though she tried.  Instead of bending over and
lifting one leg out at a time, like Lori had, Tiffany tried climbing the
stairs, standing erect.  She held her arms out for balance, and Chuck
stabilized her by putting his hands on her hips.

   "Thank you," she said, automatically, and then giggled.

   Once out of the tub, the two looked pitiful, because the evening
temperature was probably thirty degrees cooler than the water they were
used to.  Tiffany hugged her breasts, but it was obvious it was because of
the cold, and not modesty that made her do it.

   Lori arrived back at the tub, still naked, her arms full of fluffy
towels.  Tiffany snatched at one and wrapped it around her shoulders.  She
ran off on tiptoes toward the back door, only to have to turn around and
come back for her clothes, which she picked up off the deck.  She got
Chuck's too, and handed them to him, smiling tentatively.  He had his towel
hung over one shoulder, unashamed of his nudity, and the fact that Jane,
Crystal and Roberta were staring at his now shrunken cock.  He understood,
suddenly, the thrill of being an exhibitionist.

   Laughing, he grabbed Tiffany's hand and they ran for the house.

   Lori stood, holding towels in both arms, her breasts and pussy showing.

   "You guys getting out?" she asked, as if everything were as normal as
pie.

   Jane was the first to decide that, if Tiffany and Lori could do it, she
could too, and she stood up.  She blushed as her breasts broke the water,
but the look in Roger's eyes made her feel fabulous.  She, like Tiffany,
climbed up the stairs upright, and she looked down to see semen oozing down
her thigh.  Because of that, when Lori handed her a towel, she wrapped it
around her waist, instead of covering her breasts.  Roger took a towel, but
held it in his hands, walking proudly beside her, at a sedate pace, toward
the house.

   "This is embarrassing," she whispered.

   "I feel like the luckiest man alive," he said back.

   Holding her hand, he kept his pace sedate, as he walked her to the
bedroom where they'd changed into their swim suits.

   Crystal stood next, pulling Woody up with her, and rubbed her lower
back. She walked to the side of the tub and lifted one leg over, followed
by the other.  The dark blue surface of the tub rim was left smeared with
thick, milky white, and she gasped.  Woody splashed some water up out of
the tub and wiped the edge clean, without a word.  He tried to get out the
same way she did, but had to roll over the rim, and he groaned as his balls
were momentarily squashed.

   "Silly!" said Crystal, taking a towel from Lori.  Unashamed, she wiped
down her long body and held the towel in one hand, taking another from Lori
and draping it over Woody's back, as he bent over, holding his privates.

   "Come inside," said Crystal.  "I'll massage where it hurts and make you
feel better." She giggled, half hysterically, which was the only sign that
she was barely in control of her composure.

   She, like Roger, led her mate to the room where they had changed
clothes.

   Roberta looked at Jeff.

   "I can't believe we did that," she sighed.

   "I'm hard again," said Jeff, softly.

   Her eyes widened, and then she frowned.  "You were looking at Crystal.
She's beautiful."

   He reached for her.  "I'm not hard for Crystal," he said.  "I'm hard for
you."

   "I'll just leave these here," said Lori, setting the remaining towels on
the deck.

   Both Jeff and Roberta jumped.  They'd been so wrapped up in their
feelings, and with each other, they'd forgotten the young woman.  They
watched as she walked off, naked, and unashamed.

   "How can she do that?" asked Roberta.

   "She's just being herself," said Jeff.  "I admire her."

   "I guess we should get out," said Roberta.

   "Why?" he asked.  "We're alone now."

   He pushed her off his lap, where she had been hiding her breasts from
the others by pressing them against his chest.  Her eyes were side as he
positioned her, with her breasts out of the water, and leaned down to
suckle.

   "Mmmmmm," she moaned.

   "I'm hard again," he reminded her.

   She reached for him and positioned him as he pulled her hips up toward
him.  His entrance was assisted by the sperm he'd already left there,
though her pussy lips had been washed clean, and were dragged inward by his
prick.  She winced, and reached to pull at her pussy lips, as he slid back
out.  She sighed as he went back in, and removed her fingers.

   "I can't believe we're doing this," she moaned.

   "You want to go upstairs?" he asked, referring to the room where, after
Crystal and Woody had changed, they had then changed.

   "Walk you in there with that thing all stiff?" she gasped.  "I don't
think so."

   "Yeah," he sighed, pushing deeply into her.  "Besides, Crystal and Woody
might not be getting dressed anyway."

   She squealed at the thought of walking in on Crystal and Woody, and the
image of Woody's backside, rising and falling between Crystal's thighs made
an orgasm rip through her.  She wondered if she were perverted, briefly,
and then pushed that thought away, to enjoy what Jeff was doing to her.

   =================================

   Lori walked into the kitchen, still naked, to find Bob, in a pair of gym
shorts, setting out food.

   "You should probably get dressed," he said.

   "I like being naked," she said.

   "I like you being naked too, but it may make the others uncomfortable."

   "OK," she said, in that simple, uncomplicated way she had.

   She went back out to the hot tub, where Jeff was lustily thrusting into
Roberta, making the water splash over the rim of the tub.  They were so
involved with each other's pleasure that they didn't even notice her as she
retrieved her bikini.  She went to the master bedroom and picked up a new T
shirt.  She pulled it down over her upper body and, when she saw that it
went to mid thigh, ignored the shorts she'd chosen, and left the room.

   She went back to the kitchen, where Bob was nursing a beer.

   "I'm horny," she announced.  "Roberta and Jeff are making love in the
hot tub again."

   "You're insatiable," Bob grinned.

   "No," she said seriously.  "I'm just horny."

   Somehow, despite her relative innocence, she knew to lift the front of
the shirt, to show him she was naked under it.

   He laughed, and took her to the master bedroom, where he closed the
door. He put her on the bed, and took her from behind, so he could reach
around to diddle her clit.  She wiggled her bottom against him, and dropped
to lay her head on her folded arms, telling him how good he was making her
feel.

   ==================================

   Woody closed the door to the guest bedroom, and locked it.  The click of
the lock as he turned the knob was loud in the quiet room.  Crystal turned,
and saw him standing there, his prick long and hard again.

   "Oh, Woody," she said helplessly.  "You have no idea how good you make
me feel."

   "You ain't seen nothin' yet," he husked, walking toward her.

   ==================================

   In the other guest bedroom, the situation was much the same, except that
it was Jane who was the aggressor.  When they got into the room, she spun
around in a circle and laughed.

   "I can't believe how I feel!" she cried.  "I'd never have believed I
could feel so free.  I bet I've skinny dipped a hundred times, but this was
like the first time for me."

   Roger just stood there, grinning.

   Jane went to him and pushed him toward the bed, on which their clothes
were lying.  Her face lunged toward his groin, and she sucked him into her
mouth.

   "Mamma wants more," she whispered to his penis, as she pulled off of it,
sucking strongly.

   She had just gotten him fully hard again, and had slid down his prick
with a groan, when Tiffany and Chuck, fully clothed, now, stepped out of
the bathroom on one wall.  Tiffany's gasp was loud in the quiet room.

   "Don't mind us," said Chuck, his voice steady.  "We're just passing
through."

   He took Tiffany's hand and pulled her, stumbling, as she craned her neck
to watch the two on the bed.  She got to watch a little longer because
Chuck had to fumble with the lock to get the door open.  He finally pulled
her into the hall and closed the door again.

   "It's not nice to stare," Chuck admonished her.  "Let's go get something
to eat," he said.  "They won't be in there forever.  When they come out,
I'll be happy to take you back in."

   "Oooooo," whined Tiffany, beginning to recover from the shock of seeing
two people making love, right in front of her.  It seemed so different than
what had happened in the hot tub, somehow.

   ================================

   When they got to the kitchen, the food was all spread out, though Bob
was nowhere to be found.  Chuck went to the back door, where he saw what
was going on in the hot tub, with Roberta's bare legs wrapped around Jeff's
back, as he thrust lustily into her.  He went back to the kitchen.

   "Let's just eat," he said.  "I'm afraid to go looking anywhere else. 
Roberta and Jeff are going at it like gangbusters in the hot tub."

   "Oh my gosh," moaned Tiffany.  "Can you BELIEVE this is happening?"

   "I'm getting more used to the idea than I would have believed I could,"
admitted Chuck.  "This has turned out to be a wild ride."

   "We did it, right there in front of everybody!" she said, her voice
shaky.

   "So did everybody else," he said, picking up a carrot stick, and popping
it into his mouth.

   "Do you think it was peer pressure that made us do that?" she asked,
staring at him.

   "You were the one who got naked first," he said, grinning.  "If any
peers are to blame, you have to look in a mirror."

   "I guess you're right," she said.  "I didn't mean for any of that to
happen, though.  Things got sort of carried away."

   "What else is new?" he asked.  "I got carried away in the room, the
other night.  Is this what all our students are going through?"

   "I hope to hell not," sighed Tiffany.  "If it is, there will be pregnant
bellies all over school."

   "It is what they're facing, in a way," he insisted.  "The urge to ... 
do things ...  is hard to resist."

   "I feel bad enough about what we've done," she said.  "And we're
adults!"

   "Do you really feel bad?" he asked.

   She frowned.  "I feel like I should say yes ...  but I think that's the
old Tiffany.  Actually, I've never been happier in my life.  It's just all
so strange."

   "Those rules," he said.  "They stick in your head, even though you don't
want them to."

   "The kids need those rules," said Tiffany.  "We can't let them act like
us!"

   "Of course not," he said.  "But we have a much better understanding of
what they might be going through, don't you think?"

   She nodded slowly.  "You know, you might have something there."

   "Maybe this seminar wasn't such a mistake after all," he suggested.

   Tiffany had a flash in her mind, as hordes of sex ed teachers, from all
over the United States, descended on the Halle Conference Center, to attend
one of Bob's seminars.  The scene, in her mind, turned into naked bodies
everywhere, fucking like rabbits, in the rooms ...  in the hot tub ...  in
the pool ...  at the bar ...  even in the dining room.  She started
giggling as she thought of Madge Turner, the fifty-ish spinster at her
school who was the terror of all kids who even tried to hold hands in the
halls.  She envisioned Madge, sprawled on a bed, with a young man who
looked uncomfortably like Chuck, rutting between her legs, while Madge
screamed for him to fuck her like she deserved to be fucked.  Her giggles
turned to laughter, and she couldn't stop.  She had to sit down, and almost
choked on the chicken she had been chewing when the scene jumped into her
mind.

   Chuck started reviewing the Heimlich maneuver, in his mind, as she
coughed, and bits of chicken went everywhere.  He ended up behind her, with
his arms around her, as she took a breath, and laughed some more.  Her
hands came to his and pulled them to her breasts, as she imagined she was
Madge.  He had to hold her up, because she would have rolled on the floor
in helpless gales of laughter.

   ==============================

   They trickled into the kitchen in pairs, grazing at the spread Bob had
laid out for them.  While Bob was finishing up with Lori, Jeff and Roberta
finally came in, wrapped in towels.  They changed much more quickly than
the others had, and came back to the kitchen to find Bob opening two
bottles of wine.  People had already found the beer and soda, and had
helped themselves, but they weren't sure if the wine was for them or not.
The discussion, naturally, ended up being about what had happened.

   The consensus was that it had been a lot more exciting, and lot less
threatening, than any of them might have though.  The fact that none of
them, except perhaps Lori, would have seriously considered doing what they
had already done, left them somewhat dazed.

   "It was the right mix of people, at just the right time," suggested Bob.
"I wouldn't recommend going back home and trying to organize something like
that, but there are clubs that people can join, who specialize in exactly
that kind of thing."

   "I saw them on TV," piped Lori, who was still wearing only her T shirt.
Rather than try to clean up all Bob's spend, she'd simply gone into the
bathroom and stuffed some toilet paper into her pussy opening.  She liked
the idea of keeping all his sperm inside her anyway.  She imagined it still
felt warm and gooey, even though everything was the same temperature now.

   "I'm not really interested in doing anything like that," said Jane.  "I
mean ...  with THIS group ...  I suppose it wasn't so bad ...  but I could
never, ever do that around strangers."

   Several of the others, including men, agreed with her vocally, and the
rest nodded.

   "That's probably a good attitude to have," said Bob.  "Most of those
organizations are more open minded than you guys."

   "If this isn't open minded, I don't ever want to run into somebody who
is!" said Roberta.  There were more nods of assent.

   "Like I said," said Bob.  "This was just one of those perfect storms,
where things happen by chance.  How you felt about this whole week is
important for you to process, and work into your relationships, because
that will make them a lot more honest and comfortable."

   "I wish we could keep in touch," said Jane.  "Tomorrow's our last day,
and I'm going to miss you all."

   "Who says you can't keep in touch?" said Bob.  "You all live in the same
state, don't you?"

   "It's a pretty big state," said Tiffany.  "To be with Chuck, I'm going
to have to move three hundred miles."

   "What about the phone?" asked Bob.

   "That's not quite the same thing as being there," said Tiffany, thinking
of what Roger and Jane had looked like, in bed.

   "Anybody have a hot tub?" asked Jeff.

   That people laughed proved they weren't as uncomfortable as they'd been
earlier.  The normalcy of standing around, sharing a meal, completely
dressed, made them feel easier about what had happened, which was now just
a memory of something that was hard to believe really happened.  At the
same time, it was a little like seeing newlyweds, just back from their
honeymoon, when everyone knew what they'd been doing, and a lot of them
couldn't help trying to imagine it.  The comfortableness of the situation
actually added to the general level of background sexual excitement the
whole group was still feeling.

   "It would be good to see all of you again," said Roberta.  Her life had
turned so topsy-turvy that she was now capable of voicing most of what she
felt ...  quite a bit more, to Jeff himself.

   "We could form our own club," suggested Woody.

   "I think that's thinking a bit far into the future," said Bob.  "As I
understand it, this week is going to result in quite a bit of anxiousness
in the next few weeks and months."

   He got nods from that too.

   "We're getting married," said Roger, unceremoniously.

   "We are too," said Crystal, blushing, for some reason.

   "We're going to try," said Roberta, looking at Jeff, longingly.

   "That makes it unanimous," sighed Tiffany.

   They all turned, without thinking, to look at Lori.

   "I don't' think I'm ready to get married," she said.  "I just learned
how to have sex!"

   Bob relaxed.  It had been a tense moment, for him.  He knew Lori had a
major crush on him, and he didn't want to hurt her.  He started to think
about how he would have dealt with it, had she turned to him, the question
in her eyes.  But she hadn't, and he put it out of his mind.  That all the
others had formed what was intended to be permanent relationships blew his
mind.  He had thought they might play, and that sex might be had ...  but
marriage?  After knowing each other for only a week?  It was astonishing.

   "Are any of you rushing this a bit?" he asked, carefully.

   "Probably," said Jane.  "But I can't help how I feel about him.  He
thinks it's love at first sight.  Maybe it is ...  I don't know ...  but
I've never felt about any man like I feel about him ...  not even ..." She
didn't finish, because she realized she was about to say "my father".

   "Your fiancé?" Roberta finished it for her.

   Jane blushed.  "Yes," she said, too quickly.

   "I've been missing so much in my marriage," mused Roberta.  "I think it
died a while back, and I didn't know it."

   "I know exactly how you feel," said Tiffany.

   "Anyway, what Jeff has shared with me is something I know I need.  If we
can make it work out, I want to try."

   "You still thinking about the swapping spouses thing?" asked Bob.

   "Where did that come from?" asked Woody.

   They explained "the plan" to him.  His eyes sparkled, but he didn't
laugh.  "That's wild," he said.  "If that works, you could make a book out
of it."

   "This whole experience would make a good book," said Roberta.

   ============================

   They talked on for hours, bringing up stories about their youth, when
they dated, and got their hearts broken, and about dreams that never panned
out.  Finally Tiffany yawned, and looked at her watch.

   "Ohhhhh," she groaned.  "It's after midnight!"

   "Last day, tomorrow," said Bob.  "I assume you want to do the same thing
you did today?"

   "Maybe not the hot tub orgy," said Crystal, smiling tiredly.

   "How about lunch together?" asked Woody, ever the social type.

   They agreed, and Tiffany stood up.  "Got a phone?" she asked.  "Did
anybody think to get the number for the cab company from one of the
drivers?"

   "If you want, you can just crash here," said Bob.  "I've got plenty of
room.  There are two guest rooms, and the sofa pulls out into a bed."

   Roberta looked around.

   "That still leaves us shy of a bedroom," she pointed out.  She stood up.
"I'm not really sleepy anyway.  Jeff and I can catch a cab back to the
center."

   "You sure?" asked Jane.  "We could all go together."

   "We've done enough ...  together," said Roberta.  She smiled.  "At least
for one night." She smiled wider.  "If we stay, somebody will offer to
share a bed, and I don't think I'm ready for that yet."

   ===============================

   An hour later, had anyone been able to hear, into the rooms in the
house, that person would have heard the rhythmic thumping of bodies,
striking other bodies, and moans and groans, from three bedrooms, and the
living room as well.  The unmistakable sounds of a woman in orgasm would
have caressed the listener's ears, along with the soft grunts and signs of
men, emptying their balls.

   The listener might have drifted off to sleep then, as the lovers all
did, but would have been wakened four different times, that night, as the
beds got further workouts, and wombs were filled even more full of sperm.

   Had the listener been in Jeff's room at the Halle conference center ...
it wouldn't have made any difference at all.

   ===============================

   The next morning, Crystal got out of Bob's bed, which was the largest in
the house, and had been offered to her.  She looked at Woody, who was still
asleep, and smiled.  She couldn't believe what she was feeling.  All the
hurt, and anger, and loneliness she had suffered for so long had just been
vanquished by this short man.  She rubbed her stomach, thinking about what
was going to happen.  It was a foregone conclusion, at least as far as she
was concerned.  She would have this man's baby ...  babies.  Somehow, she
felt sure this time, things would turn out vastly different than they had
the first time.  As a shadow of doubt tried to prod its way into her mind,
she pushed at it firmly with her mental muscles.  She trusted Woody.  She
would learn to dance.

   Life would be good.

   She pulled on her clothes, and went downstairs, thinking to raid the
refrigerator for leftovers ...  anything she could make into breakfast.  It
was the least she could do for Bob, assuming he wasn't already up and doing
the same thing.  That would be like him.

   He wasn't.  He was lying, asleep, on the couch, with Lori draped over
him.  Both were naked.  Lori looked so young she could be his daughter, and
Crystal felt a little twinge of conscience for thinking that.  Still, she
knew that Lori was gloriously happy ...  would stay happy, as she started
her new life, exploring all those things she'd been denied in earlier
years. She felt another twinge, a protective urge, to shield Lori from the
inevitable broken heart she would suffer, either from leaving Bob, or that
some man would inflict on her.  She sighed.  There was nothing Lori could
do about it, probably, and nothing a too-tall woman hundreds of miles away
could do about it either.  Crystal forged a determination to call Lori a
lot, in the weeks to come ...  to offer herself as a confidant, and friend.
Crystal smiled, at the thought that the tallest member of the group wanted
to bond with the shortest.

   She turned away to go to the kitchen.

   =================================

   Jane woke up to find Roger, lying on his side, just looking at her. 
They were both naked too and, as she stretched, he traced around one nipple
with his finger tip.

   "I love you," he said.

   "That's the first time you've said that," she replied, smiling.

   "I was afraid to admit it," he said.  "I was afraid my ...  habit ... 
would ruin everything." He leaned over to kiss the same nipple.  "I don't
think that's going to happen."

   "As long as you only want me, I don't care who you fantasize about."

   "I know," he said.  "But I care."

   "You want more sex ...  don't you?" she said, fluttering her eyelashes
at him.

   "Always," he said.  "When I look at you ...  always."

   She rolled to her back and flung her arms wide.  One slapped on the side
of his arm, and she let her hand slide down that arm to his hip, and onto
his penis.  She was delighted to find it hard.  She opened her legs for him
too.

   "Come get it, lover," she cooed.

   ===================================

   Chuck woke up to find Tiffany's breast in his fact, her nipple flat and
lifeless.  He didn't have to move an inch to stick his tongue out and tease
the bud.  It didn't do anything, initially, but he had fun licking it
anyway.  Then, slowly, it engorged.

   "What are you doing?" came her muffled voice, from up above him.

   "One of my favorite things," he said.

   "I thought you wanted to take it slow," she teased.

   "I do," he said, moving his face to suck at the nipple.  He let it pop
out of his mouth.  "For example, I only want to have one baby at a time."

   "You're going to come see me in two weeks?" she asked.

   "Wild horses couldn't keep me away."

   "Want to practice?" she asked, pushing her breast into his face.

   "I have morning breath," he said.

   "Me too," she agreed.  "I'll get on top."

   "Deal," he said, rolling to his back.

   ===================================

   At the Halle conference center, in room 115, Jeff woke up to find
Roberta already up and in the bathroom.

   "You want to go get something to eat?" he asked.

   "No," she called back.  "I prefer brunch."

   "OK," he said, stretching.

   "I'm glad you're awake," she said, coming out of the bathroom, a
toothbrush in her hand.  "I borrowed yours," she said, looking at the
floor, like a little girl, caught using her mother's perfume.

   "I don't mind," he said.

   She came to the bed.  There was toothpaste on the brush, and she stuck
it in his mouth.  He brushed as she stood by the bed, naked, and then
bounded up to go spit and rinse.  He took care of his morning piss boner at
the same time.  When he came out, she was lying spread eagle on the bed.

   "I need you," she moaned, one finger rolling circles around her clit. 
"And you're all soft!"

   "Not for long, darling," he said, climbing on the bed.  "Not for long."

   ===============================

   Bob woke up to the smell of fresh coffee.  Lori was lying on top of him
like a rag doll, left carelessly there by a little girl.  When he tried to
get out from under her, she wiggled and moaned into his shoulder.

   Crystal appeared at the doorway to the kitchen.

   "Breakfast is ready, such as it is," she said, looking at the naked
couple.  "You want me to carry her upstairs?  I assume she has some clothes
over here."

   "You assume correctly," said Bob, grinning.  "But only because, when we
went shopping for more outfits, she left a couple here."

   "You won't hurt her ...  will you?" asked Crystal, her voice low.

   "I won't hurt her," said Bob.

   "She's nuts about you, you know,"said the older woman.

   "I know," said Bob.  "I'm kind of fond of her too."

   "Just fond?" asked Crystal.

   Lori lifted her head, and looked around, blearily.

   "What?" she said.

   "It's time to get up," said Bob.  "Crystal made breakfast for us."

   "OK," said the girl, her voice sleepy.  "I'll go get dressed."

   She levered herself up, and crawled off the couch bed.

   "Morning, Crystal," she said, walking naked past the amused woman, and
heading for the master bedroom.

   "Woody might still be sleeping," said Crystal.  "Tell him it's time to
get up, OK?"

   "Sure," said the young woman, rubbing her eyes.

   "He might be naked," warned Crystal.

   "That's OK," said Lori, starting up the stairs.

   Crystal's eyes followed the innocent, but not so innocent woman,
thinking she'd like to see what happened up there.  She knew Woody would
behave himself, but it would still probably be comical if Lori woke him up
before she got dressed.  She remembered Bob hadn't answered her last
question and turned to find him standing, unashamedly naked, in front of
her.

   "More than fond," said Bob.  "I've been putting off thinking about that
...  but more than just fond."

   "Good," said Crystal, her eyes raking up and down Bob's body.

   "Why are you looking at me like that?" asked Bob, amused.

   "Your pair partner is probably standing over my pair partner, staring at
his penis," said Crystal, her voice smoky.  "I'm a lot less uncomfortable
around short men now than I was when I got here.  You're kind of cute."

   Bob laughed.  "Talk to me at the reunion," he chuckled.  "I don't have
anything left because of that girl up there." He groaned, and rubbed his
hair.  "And today's our last day ...  at least for a while.  I'm going to
need the break," he finished.

   "You just make her last day as good as days one-through-four," said
Crystal.

   "Yes, Ma'am," said Bob, saluting.  His penis flopped, and Crystal licked
her lips suggestively.

   Bob hit the stairs at a run.

   It was Bob, therefore, who got to see Lori, standing over Woody, both of
them naked as Jaybirds, shaking his shoulder, and watching his morning wood
wobble back and forth.

   "You have to get UP, Woody," Lori was whining.  "Crystal said so!"

   Woody's eyes came open, and then popped wide open, as he saw Lori's
perky breasts and ever-stiff nipples before his shocked eyes.

   "OK!" he gasped, his hands covering his boner.

   Lori looked up and saw Bob, and smiled.

   "His looks different than yours," she said happily.  "He doesn't have a
foreskin!  I bet it feels lots different inside."

   Woody moaned and rolled, falling on the floor in his haste to get away
from Lori, who he expected at any second to reach for the object she was
discussing, to see if it felt different too.  He scurried into the bathroom
and slammed the door.  Bob noticed Woody's clothing was still on the floor,
where he had taken it off, the night before, and picked it up.  He went to
the door, knocked lightly, opened the door a foot, and thrust the bundle
inside.  It was taken from his hand instantly.

   "We'd better get dressed," said Bob.

   "I know," said Lori.  She looked at him, though, and didn't move.

   "Today's our last day," she said sadly.

   "How do you feel about that?" asked Bob, the psychologist.  He winced.

   "I was wondering ..." she said.

   "About what?" he asked, feeling dread seep into his gut.

   "I don't start my job for another month, and I don't have a place to
live yet.  My stuff is all in storage.  I guess I could go there, and get
an apartment, or a house or something, but then I'd have to pay rent and I
don't get paid until school starts."

   "Hmmm" said Bob, the dread lightening a little.  He could hear where
this was headed.

   "So I was wondering if maybe I could just stay here for a week or two,
and THEN go find an apartment.  I could clean, and stuff like that to earn
my keep."

   "You don't have to earn your keep," said Bob.  "I like having you
around."

   "For the sex," she stated.  There was no judgment in her voice.  It was
just a statement.

   "For much more than the sex," he said.

   "Really?" Her face lit up.  "I have to earn my keep," she said, her face
going serious.  I don't want to be a whore."

   Bob went to her and put a finger under her chin, lifting it until he
could plant a kiss on her lips.

   "You're nothing like a whore, and never will be," he said firmly. 
"You're just a woman, between college and her first job, who I find
fascinating and interesting."

   "But you'll still have sex with me ...  even after the seminar is over
...  won't you?" she asked.

   "Do you think I've been having sex with you only because of the
seminar?" he asked.

   "Well ...  sure ...  we're partners," she said.

   "I have so much to teach you," said Bob, kissing her again.  "I had sex
with you because I like you.  You make me feel young again."

   "You're not that old," she said.

   "I've been feeling old, but you fixed that."

   "So ...." she let it drag out.

   "I'd be happy to let you crash here for a while.  You can use the phone,
to make arrangements.  You can do the grocery shopping for me, and wash the
dishes, and water the plants, if that will make you feel better."

   "And you'll have sex with me?" Her eyes gazed into his.

   "Not quite as often as we have been," he said, smiling.  "You're wearing
me out."

   "Only two or three times a day?" she asked, looking sad.

   Bob laughed again.  He felt so alive when he was with this priceless
young woman.

   "Maybe four, once in a while," he said, smiling.

   "OK," she said.

   Then she turned, picked up one of her new outfits, and began to get
dressed.

   ==================================

   Chapter Thirty-one - The Last Day

   Oddly, depending on how you look at it, there was less sex between the
couples on their last day together, than there had been on preceding days.
Bob would have explained that emotional closeness, and the closeness of
sharing sex, are not the same thing, though they draw on each other. 
Emotional closeness ...  the human connection between two souls ...  is
infinitely more precious than mere sexual satisfaction.  That, perhaps, is
why the couples spent more time talking softly, making and remaking plans,
making promises, and trying to order the future, before it got there.  They
wanted to keep the dream alive, and all those preparations, even though
everyone should have known things rarely work out as originally planned,
made them feel like they were nailing down the future, and the dream with
it.

   There was, of course, the last minute, frenzied coupling of men and
women who needed each other physically, as well as emotionally, but that
didn't take long, what with passions as inflamed as they were.

   Then, inevitably, there was the pain of leave taking.  Couples wanted
separate cabs, instead of all being on a shuttle bus, so they could spend
as long as possible in each other's company, in private, before they were
torn apart by the bureaucracy of the airline, and differing end points.

   Crystal, Tiffany and Roberta bawled like babies, in the cab.  Jane spent
the time kissing Roger, until the cabby made a joke about how, in Arizona,
having sex in the back of a cab was illegal.  They ignored him.

   ================================

   At the airport, leave-takings of a different sort were engaged in, as
new friends felt the sadness and loss of leaving those new friends.  Phone
numbers were exchanged, and verified, and promises of calls to be made, and
pictures to be sent, were made.

   They couldn't sit together as couples, though they tried.  Some of the
other passengers weren't cooperative, or were already sitting by other
traveling partners.  For once, Roger cursed the fact that he was in first
class, while Jane was in the back.  They'd tried to upgrade her seat, but
first class was full.

   Crystal found her seat, and levered herself in, by the window.  She and
Woody had been split up when they boarded, with Woody going down the right
aisle, while she was directed to the left one.  She hadn't thought to talk
about seats, because she had watched Roger and Jane go through their
disappointing exercise, along with Tiffany and Chuck, who also couldn't get
seats together.

   As she sat, glancing out the window, she figured that, later, when the
plane was in the air, she'd go find Woody, exclaim loudly about seeing her
long lost friend, after "all these years" and beg whoever was sitting
beside him to let her catch up on old times.  She pulled her book out of
her bag.  She hadn't gotten a single page read while she was in Arizona. 
Meeting Woody turned out to have kept her from reading the book at all. 
She sighed, opened it up, and got ready to get at least a page read.

   "Eleven-D" she heard the flight attendant say.  "Here we are.  The aisle
seat, there, is eleven-D.  You were just on the wrong side of the plane,
that's all.  Have a nice flight."

   Crystal was sitting in eleven-E.  Her seatmate was here.  Oh boy.  She
didn't look up.  She heard the overhead compartment door slam shut, and a
shadow fell over her book.  She tilted it to let the light from the window
illuminate it better.

   "Hi," came a man's voice.

   Crystal's eyes snapped to her left, and up, to see Woody's face leering
down at her.

   "My goodness, but you're a tall one," he said, attempting to look down
her blouse.  "How's the air up there?" He grinned.  "Are those hot air
balloons under your blouse, or are you actually that tall?"

   A woman in front of them turned, and peered between the seats, frowning.
She obviously disapproved of Woody making fun of a tall woman.

   "My name's Woody," he said, sticking his hand out.  "And you must be one
of those female professional basketball players.  Or are you just a groupie
for the Harlem Glob Trotters?" He laughed, a braying and very annoying
laugh.

   "Woody, is it?" asked Crystal sweetly.

   "That's right my extra tall new friend," he said expansively.  "It's a
nickname I got cause of what's in my pants."

   "Well I NEVER!" gasped the woman in the next seat up.  She unbuckled her
seat belt and stood up.  She turned around and shook her finger at Woody.

   "I'm going to have you thrown off this airplane, you filthy man!"
shouted the woman.  "We have rights, and we don't have to put up with that
...  that ...  that CRAP!" she shouted.  It was obvious she had pulled out
her big gun, using the worst word in her vocabulary.

   Crystal held up her hand.

   "It's really no problem, Ma'am," she said.  "I'm a black belt in
fugitsu, and I know three ways to strike this vermin with only one finger,
and make it look like he died of a heart attack." She smiled sweetly.

   Woody made a theatrical, but very audible gulping sound.

   "I'm sorry lady, no offense.  Don't kill me ...  please.  I have three
hungry children, and a crop in the field.  I was just trying to have a
little fun."

   "You just learn to mind your manners!" snapped the old woman in the next
seat up.  She nodded approvingly at Crystal, who gave her the thumbs up
sign.  She turned around and sat back down, carefully buckling her seat
belt.

   Woody sat down next to Crystal, leaned over and kissed her briefly, and
showed her his ticket.

   "Who would have thought it?" he grinned.

   "Three hungry children and a crop in the field?" her eyebrows rose.

   "It's from that Kenny Rogers song, "You Picked A Fine Time To Leave Me
Lucille", he said.  "It was all I could think of on the spur of the moment.
I was too scared of your ...  what was it ...  fugitsu?" He grinned.

   "Hey," she whispered.  "I know Judo, and Karate, and seven other
dangerous oriental words.  I just couldn't remember them.  It was all I
could come up with on the spur of the moment.  Couldn't you have just come
and sat down beside me?"

   "What?" He looked astonished.  "And miss my chance to make fun of the
tall girl?"

   Crystal turned away from him and brought her book up in front of her
face.  She turned it upside down.

   "OK," he sighed.  "Be that way.  We're only sitting together until
Denver.  You're going to miss your big chance to join the mile high club.
How do you do it on an airplane, anyway?  There's no way we can do it in
one of these seats."

   "Woody!" said Crystal, her voice a loud whisper, and full of scorn.

   The woman in front turned around again, and peered through gap in the
seats.  Woody pretended to be asleep, with his head on Crystal's shoulder.
Her hand came and pushed his head hard, making him lean clear into the
aisle.

   "Whoa, turbulence!" he moaned.  "Where are the airsick bags?"

   "Would you STOP it!?" came Crystal's exasperated voice.  "You're making
me sorry I ever MET you!"

   The woman in front started punching the stewardess button repeatedly. 
No one came, because they were all starting to serve complimentary soft
drinks and bags of peanuts.  The woman kept punching the button, like
people continuously punch an elevator button, even though it does
absolutely no good whatsoever.

   Ten minutes later, when the drink cart finally got to them, the woman
complained mightily that Woody was harassing "that nice young woman by the
window, back there".

   The stewardess took the complaint very seriously, frowning as hard as
she could.

   "It's OK," said Crystal.  "I'm going to marry him."

   "Oh!" said the flight attendant, looking confused.  The woman up front
looked confused too.

   "Yes, and then I can make him pay for his misdeeds every day, for the
rest of his miserable life."

   The flight attendant, for lack of any other avenue of justice, reached
out and took Woody's peanuts back.

   After that, they decided that it was much better to spend their last
couple of hours doing something more productive than teasing their
neighbors.  They talked quietly until the plane landed in Denver, and the
whole group was able to reassemble, until they had to go to different gates
to fly the rest of the way home.

   ============================



   Epilogue

   Roberta and Jeff

   A month after the seminar ended, Roberta Tinsdale sent a formal dinner
invitation to the residence of Jeff and Melanie Watts.  Jeff, with that
invitation in hand, drove eighty miles, pulling up to what could only be
called a mansion.  He drove through the tall wrought iron gates, which
stood open, and up the horseshoe driveway, between carefully tended rows of
privet hedge.  There was a tall fountain, sparkling in the sun, across from
the porch.  He parked, and walked up the steps, between fourteen foot
columns of white faux marble.  He tried to just walk in, but the door was
locked, and he was forced to ring the bell.

   Natalie, a servant girl, opened the door.  Jeff wondered where Hugh, the
butler was.

   "Mister Watts!" said Natalie, curtsying.  "Now nice to see you.  I
wasn't told you were coming!"

   "I'm not here for long.  I just need to pick up Melanie.  We're going to
a party."

   "Oh!" said the girl, looking distinctly surprised.  Jeff knew she was
aware of the strain between him and Melanie.  Servants knew everything. 
"She's out by the pool, I believe."

   Jeff walked through the house, which took over a minute.  Harvey
Spoonweather, Melanie's father, had wanted to make a statement about just
how important he was, and he'd done a pretty good job of it.  This place
was fancier than the Governor's mansion.

   Melanie WAS by the pool, in one of her signature black bikinis.  She
thought black made her skin look paler, her eyes bluer, and her hair more
blond.  Why she then lay in the sun, as often as possible, to darken her
skin, was a mystery to Jeff.  She was wearing sunglasses, so he couldn't
tell if she was awake or not.  He went to stand over her.

   "Jeff!" she almost, but not quite squealed.  "What are you doing here?
Did you finally come to your senses?  Are you here to work for Daddy?"

   Jeff's initial reaction to his wife had been for his penis to stir.  She
WAS a beautiful woman.  She had breasts as good as Tiffany's, and a flat
abdomen that fairly screamed to be filled with a baby.  She'd never consent
to that, though.  It would make her fat, and ugly ...  by definition.  Her
attitude, though, overrode any possibility that his penis would continue to
stiffen.  He suddenly realized that, if she stood and stripped naked, he
might not be able to get it up for her.  That made him sad.

   "I came to get you," he said, calmly.  "We've been invited to a party."

   "A party?" There was a glimmer of interest in her voice.  She didn't
take off her sunglasses, though, or sit up.  "What kind of party?"

   "There will be dinner and dancing," he said.  "That kind of party."

   "Who'll be there?" she asked, as if that was the most important aspect
of going to a party.  "It won't be all those dreary teacher friends of
yours, will it?"

   "That doesn't matter, Melanie," he said, trying to keep his voice calm.
"We've been invited, and I sent an RSVP, and we're going."

   "When is this party?" she asked, stretching in the sun.

   "Tonight.  You need to get up and come with me.  Pack a bag.  We'll be
gone overnight."

   "Tonight?" she asked, her voice rising.  "Overnight?  Jeff, I'm not
ready!  I need to go to the hairdresser, and shop for a gown.  I can't go
to a party tonight!"

   "Get up, Melanie," he said, his voice tense.  "We're GOING to this
party, and we're leaving in fifteen minutes."

   She did sit up then, but it was a result of outrage, and not because her
husband, whom she hadn't seen for four months, was standing above her.

   "I don't know what you think you're doing, Jeff, but ...  AWP!"

   She yelped as he reached down and, with strength that astonished her,
pulled her to her feet in one quick, violent movement.  That she landed on
balance was luck, but she didn't know that.

   "Do not talk, Melanie," he ordered.  "Walk.  Walk to your room, wherever
it is, and pack an overnight bag.  Bring whatever cosmetics you like, and
pick one of the dresses you already own.  As I recall, you have a little
red dress that I have always thought you looked especially good in.  Bring
that one.  You'll have a chance to comb your hair, and put on makeup once
we get there."

   He put his hand in the small of her back and gave her a gentle push
toward the house.  She opened her mouth and he cut her off.

   "Don't talk, Melanie!" he ordered again.  "Walk."

   She had never seen him like this.  She had always been able to dominate
him, first with her looks, then with the promise of sex, and finally, with
her tongue.  She'd needed a boyfriend, who could be turned into a husband,
because she couldn't get her inheritance until she'd been married ten
years. That was her grandfather's fault.  The sexual revolution had shocked
him, and he had made it plain, using his money, that none of his family
would engage in anything approaching "free love" or indiscriminate sexual
behavior.

   His own children had already blown it, on that score, as far as he was
concerned, with the exception of his son, Harvey, who successfully
navigated the rules, and inherited the five million dollars his father had
set aside for him.  Harvey's brother and sister still lived in trailers, on
the edge of an Indian reservation.

   The remaining fifteen million in the old bastard's estate was reserved
for his grandchildren, could they match Harvey's behavior.  At present,
technically, that meant that each grandchild who met the requirements would
receive two million, free and clear.  Once all of them had either completed
the plan, or been disqualified, the remaining money would be split evenly
between the successful contenders.

   Melanie was Harvey's only child.  She had six cousins, whom she had
never met, but knew a lot about.  Private detectives kept an eye on the
trailer trash.  Two of them had already cut themselves out of the
inheritance, and there were pictures to prove it.  They didn't know about
those pictures, and wouldn't, until somebody tried to claim their part of
the inheritance.  That was to ensure that the other four didn't worry about
surveillance, in hopes they'd slip up too.  Harvey and Melanie weren't all
that worried about anyone watching Melanie.  The trailer trash couldn't
afford the rates that private investigators charged.  Besides, Melanie,
though she didn't know it, had a low sex drive.  Sex was smelly, nasty
business, that required showering carefully, afterwards.  Shopping was much
more fun.

   That was part of the reason Melanie was so welcome at home.  All she had
to do was stay married for another six years, and she'd very likely have
more money than her father did.

   ===============================

   Melanie found herself, to her continuing surprise, sitting in the
passenger seat of Jeff's 1995 Ford Escort, the only car he could afford,
after Melanie took theirs, leaving him to keep making the payments.  He had
been so intent on getting Melanie into his car and off the property, he
hadn't even thought about the fact that there was a much better car on the
place, that he had every right to use, than the old Ford.  She couldn't
remind him either.  Every time she had opened her mouth, he'd been right
there, telling her to shut it.  She'd finally had enough of his new
assertive behavior.

   "I'm not going ANYWHERE with you, if you keep treating me like THIS!"
she'd shouted.

   "Melanie," he'd said, his voice serious.  "You're my wife, even though
you're not acting like it.  You ARE going with me to this party, and you
WILL behave yourself and act like you're having a good time, or so help me,
I'll file for divorce!"

   He had no idea he'd played the only card he had in his hand that trumped
any of hers.  Her attitude after that surprised him, but he was so relieved
that she actually packed a bag and got in the car with him, that he didn't
worry about it.

   As they left town, she asked: "Where IS this party?"

   "It's in a town called Glenns Ferry," he said.  He had to speak loudly,
because the windows were down.  The AC didn't work in his car.

   "Glenns FERRY!" yelled Melanie.  "That's clear over in Elmore County!"
Harvey Spoonweather had built his mansion on the outskirts of Boise.  It
would take them hours to drive to Glenns Ferry.

   "Yes, it is," said Jeff, staring straight ahead.

   "Why are you doing this to me?" whined his wife, trying to capture her
blond tresses and keep them from whipping in her face.

   "We're married, Melanie," he yelled.  "You're my wife.  Married people
have a social life!"

   Melanie, reminded that she was, in fact, married, subsided.  She figured
out how to let the seat go back and tried to go to sleep.  Talking to Jeff
was something she'd never figured out how to do.  All he ever wanted to
talk about was fixing society's woes.  She already knew now to do that. 
Money.  Money fixed everything.

   ============================

   Roberta had planned the party for a Sunday evening, because that was
when the people she wanted to come to this party would most likely be
available.  She prepared the guest list carefully.  She knew some of
Phillip's business associates, and chose one couple from that list.  She
invited another man she knew her husband wanted to do business with, and
assumed that man would come, just to see what Phillip would offer him.  She
added Jeff and his wife, per their plan, and stopped there.  Eight for
dinner was a manageable number, and it was likely that the two couples
invited for "cover" would leave early.  That would leave Melanie and
Phillip with time to kill, and, hopefully, talk.  She had everything that
she intended to have when Jeff and Melanie arrived.  They were supposed to
come early, just in case.

   She looked in the mirror.  She wasn't going to gussy herself up.  She'd
wear a modest dress, and very little makeup.  Jeff wouldn't care, and Jeff
was the only one whose opinion she really cared about.

   She stared at the woman in the mirror.  Were they really going to do
this?  Could they pull it off?  Was this the stupidest idea in the world?

   She sighed, and left, to check everything one more time.  On impulse,
she went to the den, where Phillip was surfing the net.  Even on Sunday,
he'd started trying to find business opportunities, doing research on
companies he might want to buy into.

   "Our first guests will be here in an hour or so," she said.  "Jeff - the
one I met in Arizona and told you about - he and his wife will arrive
early. They're coming from quite a distance, and she'll need some time to
get ready."

   "Um ...  OK," he said, staring at the screen.

   "We have an hour ...  if you're feeling ...  frisky," she said, half
hoping, and half dreading his answer.  She felt conflicted ...  she really
owed him the chance to ...  reclaim her?

   "Maybe later," he said, still staring at the screen and clicking the
mouse.  "Maybe after the party."

   "Maybe," she said softly.  Then, she left, to check everything one more
time.

   ================================

   Roberta was the perfect hostess when Jeff dragged Melanie to the door.
He had her bag in his hand.  His was still in the trunk.

   "Come in, come in!" said Roberta brightly, looking only at Melanie. 
"You poor thing.  I'm so sorry this was so far away from your home, but I
so wanted to meet you." She glanced at Jeff, who nodded once, letting her
know that he'd informed Melanie about how they'd met, and how, when he'd
left his wallet at the center, she'd covered the cost of his dinner one
night.  Coming to the party was her way of letting him pay her back.  Jeff
had thought it was a pretty flaky story, but that was the way Melanie
thought.  Tit for tat, and throwing money around was something she
understood well.

   Roberta took the bag from Jeff.

   "Nice to see you again, Jeff," she said, almost dismissively.  "Let me
get your lovely wife somewhere where she can freshen up and relax.  I have
the iron warmed up, so we can freshen up her dress too.  Phillip's busy
making money, so you'll meet him later.  Make yourself comfortable.  I'll
get you something to drink when Melanie is all settled."

   Roberta led Melanie off, already chatting animatedly, and Jeff, with a
huge sigh of relief, sat down in the living room.  Exhausted by the tension
of getting things this far, and still on track, he dozed off within ten
minutes.

   ================================

   They were on the time table, and that alone gave Jeff and Roberta hope
that things would go well.  Melanie had time only to get ready.  Roberta
took her to the guest bedroom, pushed her into the shower and then helped
her put her hair up.  She ironed the dress while Melanie applied her
makeup, and then left to get ready herself.  She woke Jeff, kissed him
firmly, but quickly, and told him to go get dressed with his wife.

   Jeff carried his suitcase into the bedroom as Melanie was putting on the
finishing touches.

   "I think I'm gaining weight or something," she moaned, pulling at the
front of her dress.  It was startlingly red, and the neckline plunged to
well below her full breasts.  There were diamond shaped cut-outs on the
sides, and almost no back at all.  The dress itself announced that there
was no bra ever made that could be worn with it.  Her nipples punctuated
that statement.  She had shoes to match, of course, and had brought the
diamond necklace her father had given her for her last birthday.  It was
worth seven or eight thousand dollars, and the matching dangly earrings
were worth another four grand.

   She looked fabulous.

   "See?" she said, trying to cover more of her breasts.  The edge of the
dress threatened to show her areolas, which Jeff knew were pale pink, and
actually lighter than her tanned breast flesh.  Jeff was suddenly aware
that, at some time or another she must have lay in the sun naked, since
there were no tan lines in sight.  He wondered how she did that with
servants all over the place, half of them male.

   "You look beautiful," he said, meaning it.  She'd always been beautiful,
and he'd always been amazed that she'd chosen him, when there were so many
better looking men around.  It had made him feel proud, at first.

   "When did I gain all this weight?" she moaned.  "Will there be dancing?"
she asked.  "I'll have to be careful if I dance anything fast.  My boobs
could pop right out," she complained.

   "Stand up and shake a little, and let's find out," he suggested, only
half joking.  "You know I love to see your breasts."

   She glanced at him in the mirror, and her voice went into the sing-song
voice that always made him wince.  "Pookie's so naughty, wanting to see my
boobies," she almost chanted, like he was a five year old.  "Pookie knows
he can't play with them right now.  We have a party to go to!  Maybe Pookie
can play with them later, if Mamma isn't too tired." Her face had never
changed at all, and she hadn't maintained eye contact with him, brushing an
eyebrow with one finger, instead.  Her voice went back to normal.  "Where
are we staying tonight, anyway?  I hope it's not some ratty motel.  Do they
have a decent hotel in this town?"

   "You know," he said, feigning astonishment, "I never even thought about
that!  Stupid me!" He slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand. 
"I'll have to ask Roberta about that."

   "She seems nice," said Melanie, touching up her lipstick.  "At least she
has good taste in perfume," she said, looking at the bottles arrayed on the
dressing table.

   Jeff bit off a snarl, and got dressed.  Before he was done, Melanie
stood.  She never even looked at him while he dressed.  "I'm going to go
mingle," she said, walking out the door.  "Don't be too long."

   ============================

   Melanie was a hit with all the men, and she was in her element.  Her
party persona was bright, cheerful, and flirty.  The women, most of whom
she put to shame, hated her immediately.  The men, trying not to make it
obvious, seemed to always have some need to talk to her about this or that
thing.  It got worse, depending on your outlook, when Jeff let drop what
her maiden name was.  All of them knew who Harvey Spoonweather was.  While
the mining empire his father had reined over was long gone, the money it
had generated was not, and they were like sharks, with chum in the water,
when they found out she was his daughter.  Roberta had chosen dinner guests
well.  The women made sure that, after dinner, the party was very short
indeed.

   When only the two couples were left, Roberta went to the kitchen, to
"freshen drinks".  She came back, an annoyed look on her face.

   "I'd have sworn I got four bottles of wine.  We drank two, but I can't
find the other two.  Those others might have pooped out on us, but the
party's just starting.  I'm going to run out and get more wine, darling.  I
won't be gone but a minute."

   Jeff took his cue and stood up.

   "Want some company?" he asked.  "I didn't think the others would be
interested in teacher things, at dinner.  This might give us a chance to
catch up on what's happened since the seminar."

   "That would be nice," said Roberta, looking only mildly interested. 
"Will you two be all right while we're gone?  Should we all go together?"

   "I'd love to be able to chat with Melanie," said Phillip, beaming.  He
was looking straight at Melanie's breasts as he spoke.  "I have some ideas
that just might interest her father, and I didn't want to talk about them
during dinner."

   "Well, then, Darling," said Roberta brightly, "chat away.  Pick some
music so we can dance when I get back.  When we get back." She corrected
herself as if she'd just remembered Jeff was going along.  "We never dance
any more," she said, sounding pouty.

   "Music," said Phillip, staring at Melanie's nipples.  "Sure."

   ==================================

   The wine Roberta was "going to get" was in the trunk of the car, along
with a blanket and two pillows.  She drove to a dirt lane, that led off
into a wooded area.  There was a gate, but she got out and opened it, drove
through, and closed it again.

   "This is property owned by one of Phillip's business associates," she
explained.  "They have big plans to develop it someday, and are waiting for
the value of the land to rise."

   Beyond the thin line of woods was pasture.  There was a big oak tree
that shaded the ground in a thirty foot circle.

   "Phillip brought me here one time to show me how much money he'll make
when they develop this land," she said.  "I saw the tree, and wanted to
come back for a picnic.  Somehow, it never happened."

   "Too bad," said Jeff, looking at her.  "It's a nice place for a picnic."

   "Nice enough for a picnic," she said, getting out.  She took the blanket
and spread it out on the thick grass under the tree.  Jeff brought the
pillows.  By the time he got there, she was down to her bra and panties. 
She gave him a smoldering look and dropped them, and then lay down,
spreading her legs, and pulling at her nipples.

   "Speaking of picnics ...  see anything you want to nibble on?" she
asked.

   He did, and he nibbled with delight, her hands stroking his hair as she
arched under him.

   "I had a period when I got home," she moaned.  Jeff was too busy to say
anything.  "I'm ovulating right now," she panted.  "It would be very
dangerous if any of your sperm got in me tonight."

   ===================================

   Roberta, acutely aware of the feeling of Jeff's sperm, seeping out of
her pussy, almost forgot to take the wine into the house.  When she
remembered, she turned to see it in Jeff's hands, and smiled at him.

   Inside, they found Phillip and Melanie in the den, where Phillip was
showing her development plans for the very land his wife had cuckolded him
on, only fifteen minutes before.  Melanie was bent over, as if she was
looking at the plans, or would know what they meant.  Phillip was looking
at her cleavage.  He could see all the way to her navel, and his prick was
stiff as a board.

   "We're back," called out Roberta, gaily.  "Let the party begin!"

   She poured wine, and told Phillip to turn on the stereo.  He hustled
over to the machine.  It was obvious he hadn't chosen any music while they
were gone.  He sorted through CDs, rejecting some, and selecting others.

   "Fast or slow?" he called.

   "Both," said Jeff.  Melanie shot him a glance, but then smiled.  He
wondered what that meant.

   The first selection was fast, and before it had gone fifteen seconds,
Jeff knew that Melanie was trying to make her breasts "pop out", as she had
put it.  They did, or at least the right one did.  She giggled cutely and
put it back, only to gyrate even harder, until it happened again.  Jeff
looked at Roberta, who was frowning.  She saw him looking, and her frown
turned to a smile.  He wondered what that meant too.

   When that song was done, Melanie giggled some more and said: "I guess
slow would be better.  This dress isn't cooperating." She drained her wine
glass.  Roberta filled it again.

   It only took two more songs, and Phillip took the bait.

   "Might I beg for a dance with your lovely wife?" he asked Jeff.

   "If I might dance with YOUR lovely wife," said Jeff gallantly.

   That turned out to be something they hadn't thought clearly about. 
While neither Jeff nor Roberta minded if the other two danced as closely as
possible, they hadn't realized what being in each others arms would be
like, in this situation.

   The first thing Roberta said, into Jeff's ear, when they started dancing
was "You want me? ...  over her!?" Jeff wanted to do was put his hands on
Roberta's buttocks.  He stopped himself, just in time.  He whispered back:
"Yes." She ground her hips against his, and then pulled back, blushing. 
Both of them wanted to kiss each other.  In the process, they almost didn't
pay any attention to the others.

   It wouldn't have mattered.

   Melanie had her eyes closed, with her hands on Phillip's shoulders.  His
were on her back, sliding slowly up and down the exposed skin there.  She
could feel the expensive weave of his suit coat against the skin of her
chest.  What he'd spent for that suit would buy ten of the kind Jeff wore.

   Phillip's face was in Melanie's hair, and he wasn't looking at his wife.
He was too busy feeling the hot, soft orbs pressing into his chest, so much
different than what he felt when his wife danced with him.  He had gone
soft, dancing with Roberta, but was hard again now.  Melanie didn't seem to
mind shoving her breasts against him, but he was trying not to press his
boner against her.  When he accidentally brushed her with it, during a
turn, she didn't jerk back, or say anything.  Her hands moved on his
shoulders, just a little, almost a stroke.  When the song ended, both were
breathing hard.

   "That was nice," she said, looking up at him with wide, blue eyes.

   He wasn't sure ...  it could have been his imagination ...  but it
almost felt like she shoved her hips forward ...  just a little ...  as she
said it.

   Two songs later, it was Jeff who suggested that they switch partners
again.  He and Roberta made sure they talked about teacher things, loudly
enough to be overheard, during that dance.  When it was over, Roberta said
"Go ahead again, we're still talking."

   It was obvious that there was significant chemistry between the two
unsuspecting spouses.  Phillip's hands dipped lower and lower, toward the
but crack that Melanie was displaying, and which, along with the diamond
cut-outs on her sides, suggested that, besides not wearing a bra, she
wasn't wearing panties either.  That he had an erection was plain to her,
and it was just as plain to him that she didn't mind, as her loins
continually bounced against his.  She swayed, too, so that her big breasts
rubbed against his jacket.  In the middle of the song, he broke away from
her, took his jacket and tie off, and then resumed dancing.  Her nipples
had grown, and now he could feel those through his shirt.

   It was at that point, with things going perfectly, according to plan,
that the plan ran out of steam.  Jeff and Roberta had paid particular
attention to getting things this far.  But that's where they hadn't been
able to extend the plan any farther.  Now that the scene was set ...  the
play was unfinished.  In any normal scenario, they could only dance so
long, and then the spouses would retire to separate bedrooms ...  and the
party would be over.  Jeff and Roberta didn't want the party to be over,
but they hadn't figured out any way to move things forward either.  The
last thing Roberta had said was "We'll figure something out."

   It was the thought of that, that galvanized Jeff, and made him ... 
improvise.

   When the song ended, he let go of Roberta, and went to the other couple,
who were still pressed together.  Phillip looked at him, and with a crooked
smile, said "Your wife is a divine dancer."

   "I wouldn't know," said Jeff.  "She doesn't dance with me like that."

   A flicker of alarm flashed into Phillip's eyes, and he pulled away from
Melanie, his heart accelerating, as adrenaline was produced in is body.

   "Let's talk about that, for a second," said Jeff, leaving his arms
hanging at his sides.  "It seems, that while we were at that seminar that
we attended, that Roberta and I fell in love.  We didn't mean to, but it
happened.  It's real, and we're both interested in pursuing a quiet,
civilized divorce, and getting married to each other."

   You could have heard a pin drop.

   "What the fuck are you talking about?" Phillip's voice was low, and
harsh.  He looked at Roberta, who was standing wide-eyed, four or five feet
away.  This hadn't been part of the plan.

   "He's telling the truth," she said, her voice soft.  "I want a divorce.
You don't love me.  You only think of business.  When you danced with
Melanie ...  you haven't held me like that in as long as I can remember."

   Phillip looked at the woman at is elbow.  She was frowning.  Even
frowning she made his prick hard.  But that didn't matter.  What mattered
was alimony, and the expense of divorce lawyers, and the possible damage to
his reputation.  If he couldn't control his wife, people would assume he
couldn't control their money either.

   "That's ridiculous," he snorted.  "You can't have a divorce.  I won't
stand for it!" he blustered.  He thought of something.  "And even if you
tried, I'd win.  You just admitted you had an affair with this man!  You'd
get nothing!  You'd be lucky to leave here with the clothes on your back,"
he snarled.

   "Even when I show the judge the pictures of you and Cynthia, having
sex?" she asked.  Her voice sounded nervous, and with good cause.  Cynthia
was his secretary, and there were no pictures.  There was only her
suspicion ...  firm belief ...  that he had been cheating on her with
Cynthia.  Still, her belief was so strong, it allowed her to bluff.

   "What are you talking about?" his voice sounded hollow.

   "I hired a private investigator," she said, her voice stronger now. 
"After I smelled her perfume all over your clothes.  I have pictures,
Phillip."

   Phillip, knowing that he was boffing his secretary long, deep, and
continuous, had no trouble believing that there might be documentation,
even though he thought he'd been discreet.  He tried throwing himself on
Roberta's mercy.

   "I'm sorry, baby," he said, his voice choking with emotion.  "It was
just that once, and I was gone from home - I missed you so much - and she
seduced me."

   The shock of hearing confirmation of what she believed, but didn't want
to believe, snapped something in Roberta.

   "I have three sets of pictures, Phillip," she said forcefully, calling
his bluff, with even more bluffing of her own.  "In three different places,
Phillip!  They offered me more, but I said three sets should be enough!"
she almost yelled.

   Phillip looked around, and sat in a nearby chair.

   "But honey, this could ruin us!" he moaned.

   "Don't you 'honey' me, you bastard!" she yelled.  "Just let me go.  I
don't want anything.  You can keep your precious money.  You'll still be a
millionaire by the time you're fucking thirty!" She was crying now, and
Jeff couldn't help but go to her.  He took her in his arms, and looked at
Melanie.  She was still frowning, but hadn't said anything, thus far.

   He wondered what THAT meant too.

   "I can't divorce you," she suddenly blurted.

   "Sure you can," said Jeff.  "You don't even live with me any more.  I
don't know why you married me in the first place, Mel."

   "You don't love me either!" she said harshly.  "If you did, you'd come
work for Daddy, and we could live like people SHOULD live!"

   "You know I love teaching," said Jeff.  "You knew I was going to be a
teacher when you married me!  I thought we were getting married because we
loved each other ...  not how we were going to live."

   "You don't understand!" she said, getting loud.  "I CAN'T get a
divorce!"

   "Help me understand," he said.  "You could have any man you want."

   "I can have any man I want," she agreed, "but I can't get my inheritance
if I get a divorce."

   "What inheritance?" asked Jeff, confused.  "You never told me about any
inheritance."

   That's when it all came out.  She explained it all, even though she
wouldn't have, unless she had to.  She even told him about the secret
pictures of her cousins, breaking the agreement by fucking around, trying
to make him understand how much money was involved.

   "Don't you see, Jeff?  All we have to do is stay married for six more
years and we'll be ROLLING in money!" Her nipples were spiked again, and
one areola was clearly showing, because she was breathing so hard, thinking
of all that lovely money.

   "I don't want the money," said Jeff.  "All I want is Roberta."

   Both Melanie and Phillip, who was breathing pretty hard too, and whose
mouth was literally watering at the thought of all that money, stared at
Jeff like he'd sprouted another eyeball, maybe in his forehead.

   "HOW CAN YOU NOT WANT MONEY?!" screamed Melanie.

   "Calm down, everybody," said Roberta, stepping forward.  "Let's all sit
down and discuss this like adults.  There has to be an answer." Roberta,
once Bob had taught her how to, was pretty good at finding options that
most people wouldn't have looked for.  She had an idea now.

   "What is there to talk about?" asked Melanie, looking at her rival, and
almost sneering.

   "You want the money, and I want Jeff," said Roberta.  "What if we could
both have what we want?

   "How?" Melanie's greed created interest.

   "In six years, after you get the money, you can get a divorce, right?"

   "Yes," said Melanie.  The ease with which she said that hurt Jeff,
somewhere deep inside.  He knew, now, that there was nothing left between
them.

   "Phillip has been sleeping with his secretary," said Roberta, "which is
completely unacceptable." She looked at him, and he had the grace to look
sheepish.  She could see interest in his face too, though.  "I wouldn't
have been attracted to Jeff if you hadn't cheated on me first, and I can't
stay with you because we both cheated," she said to him.  She turned to
Melanie.  "So, I propose that you become his secretary," said Roberta.

   Both Phillip and Melanie blinked.  Roberta went on before they could
speak.

   "You'll live with him ...  here ...  unless, of course that isn't
acceptable to one of you.  I doubt that.  You were rubbing yourself all
over him, and he couldn't keep his tongue in his mouth." She said it with
no disgust in her voice.  After all, she and Jeff had done the same thing.
"You can help him with his business dealings ...  your father may be
interested in some of his ideas.  He has good ideas, and he WILL be wealthy
some day.  I'll live, and teach, with Jeff, in Dover.  We all do that for
six years, and then there will be quiet divorces, and you two can do
whatever you like."

   She sat down.  She couldn't believe all that had come out of her mouth.

   Melanie looked at her, then at Phillip, and finally, last, at her
husband.

   "That's insane," said Phillip, "but it might just work."

   Melanie looked at him appraisingly.  He was frank in his examination of
her too.  She was even better looking than Cynthia.

   Melanie, ever the schemer, wasn't stupid, though.

   "What about you two?" she asked.  "You can't just live together.  People
there know he's married."

   "Roommates," said Jeff.  "I'll tell them our marriage didn't work out.
They'll never know there's actually no divorce yet.  She'll be a new
teacher, and will need a place to live.  I'll rent her the spare room. 
We'll just be roommates.  People will expect us to ...  become close."

   "How do you know she can get a job there?" asked Melanie, suspiciously.

   "You've seen the town," said Jeff.  "It's why you left.  They can never
find enough teachers."

   "True," said Melanie.  She looked at Phillip again.  "You do have some
good ideas," she said, grudgingly.

   "If I had access to some capital, I could accelerate my long term plan,"
he said, looking at her nipples again.  "We could be a hell of a team."

   She gave him a smile that would have hurt Jeff, had he not already known
she didn't really love him.

   "I've been bored to tears, at home," she said.  Then, ever practical,
Melanie turned back to Roberta.  "What now?" she asked.  Her hand went to
her hair ...  a primping motion.  Roberta knew she wasn't primping for
Jeff.

   "You two have plans to make ...  things to talk about.  Jeff and I have
things to talk about too.  As ...  hostess ...  I must offer you the best I
have.  That would be the master bedroom ...  if you're staying here
tonight."

   There it was.  The offer to trade spouses had been made.  It wasn't in
the traditional vein of wife-swapping, but it was wife-swapping, none the
less, and blatantly so.  Phillip looked at Roberta with interest.  Had she
shown this side of herself, previous to this, he might have been more
interested in her.  He liked the devious twist of her solution.  He looked
at Melanie ...  at the areola which was now clearly showing.  She was
Harvey Spoonweather's daughter.  For him, the choice was obvious.

   Melanie saw the look.  She was bored, which was common, these days.  And
she was horny, which was unusual.  Maybe she could control this one more
successfully than she had Jeff.  She looked at Jeff.

   "You don't want the money?" she asked, still thinking he was crazy.

   "Not a cent," he said, taking Roberta's hand.

   Melanie looked back at Phillip.

   "Well," she said brightly, "I did bring a bag."

   =================================

   Phillip's thinly disguised attempt at gallantry, when he said "Let me
show you to the master bedroom, and get you settled," was almost laughable.
He never came back.  Roberta started cleaning things up, out of habit, and
to see if he would.  Jeff helped.  When it was clear that anyone in his
right mind had had more than enough time to show a guest to the master
bedroom, and come back ...  if he was going to.  Jeff approached Roberta
from behind, and put his hands on her hips.

   She took them and pulled them to her breasts, and leaned back against
him.  Then she turned.

   "It's sad, in a way," she said.

   "I know," agreed Jeff.

   "Why do I feel so happy ...  if it's so sad?" she asked.

   "Maybe it has to do with the fact that you're ovulating," he said.

   "I'm ovulating," she repeated, her eyes going unfocused.  They cleared,
and took on a smoky cast.

   "Did you remember the condoms?" he asked.  Jeff had warned her that
Melanie would never let him have sex without a condom.  The thought of
having children terrified her, even though she was on the pill.  Sex,
between Melanie and Phillip was something Jeff felt was necessary ...  in
the hopes that it would bond the two even further.

   "There's a box lying on the bedside table," said Roberta.  "I put them
there myself."

   "Here's hoping they use them all," said Jeff, leaning forward to kiss
her.

   "I didn't save any for us to use," she said, in a little girl voice. 
"And I'm ovulating."

   "Pity," he said.  "I'm willing to take a chance."

   She pulled him toward the guest bedroom.

   "Me too."

   ==================================

   The next morning, Melanie came down wearing one of Roberta's light
robes. It wasn't closed, and she was naked under it.  Roberta was fixing
breakfast.

   "I hope you don't mind.  You said to make myself at home," said Melanie
cattishly.  Now that she'd had half a dozen orgasms, her cruel streak was
coming out.  "When are we going to do the switch thing?"

   "I'm ready to leave with Jeff right now," said Melanie.  "We can rent a
truck and take my things with us."

   "Good," said Melanie.  "I want to move my stuff in right away."

   Twelve long hours later, Roberta followed Jeff into his house.  The
first thing she did was throw the few things Melanie had left there, in a
pile on the floor.  Then she took a shower with Jeff.  Then she took him to
bed.

   Moving her stuff in could wait.

   =====================================

   Just about everybody had to get through the next school year before
residences could change.  Contracts had to be honored.  Tiffany and Roberta
were the exceptions.

   ========================

   Roberta simply went to her school and told them she was moving to take
care of her very ill mother.  She didn't feel bad about lying.

   ========================

   Tiffany, delighted when Chuck showed up right on time, two weeks after
the seminar was over, set about getting pregnant.  They failed the first
month, but she missed the next period after that one.  The way she told
Chuck she was pregnant is worth mentioning.

   They lived two and a half hours apart, and saw each other about every
other weekend.  One evening, when he wasn't expecting her, Tiffany rang his
doorbell.  It was hot, and all he was wearing was a pair of gym shorts.  It
was dark outside, and his porch light wasn't working, so he simply opened
the door, to let the interior light illuminate whoever was there.  Who was
there ...  was Tiffany ...  with her pompons.  She was wearing a spandex
top, with the letters "FMH" ironed on it between her breasts.  The top came
to just below her breasts and her nipples telegraphed themselves through
the white fabric, on either side of the letters.  By this time, Chuck was
aware that her nipples were only erect when she was very excited, and he
noticed they were erect.  Around her hips was a pleated skirt, blue and
white.  She was wearing white tennis shoes, and her hair was in a pony
tail.

   "Good evening, Sir," she said brightly, shaking her pompons.  My name is
Tiffany, and I'm collecting for the Retired Cheerleaders of America
program. Would you like to make a donation?"

   Chuck grinned, and folded his arms across his chest.

   "Well ...  Tiffany, did you say? ...  I don't know about that.  I don't
have a lot of money."

   "Oh, Sir!" she squealed.  "That's perfectly all right.  We're not
collecting money."

   "What are you collecting?" he asked.

   "May I come inside?" she asked sweetly.  "I'm sure I can explain it to
your satisfaction."

   He held out his arm, pointing toward the living room, and she went to
sit primly on the edge of the couch, her knees securely together.  He
closed the front door, and walked toward her.

   "What are you collecting?" he asked, leering at her.

   She leaned back.  "We're opening a sperm bank," she said, her voice
high. She flipped the skirt up over her midriff, exposing her bare pussy.
She spread her legs.

   "Would you like to make a deposit?" she asked, reaching to pull her
pussy lips apart.

   "I believe I might," said Chuck, pushing his gym shorts down.

   "Oooooo, you have such a big one," she whined.  "I bet you'll make a
really big deposit."

   "Anything for the RCA," he panted.  He leaned over her.

   "By the way," he said, lowering the tip of his prick to her open pussy.
"Why does your shirt say FMH instead of RCA?"

   "Oh, that," she cooed, as he started in her.  "The letters on my top
stand for Fuck Me Hard."

   He did.

   She talked about him being better than the basketball team.  She told
him he was better than the football team.  She said he was even better than
all the coaches.

   "Oh, you're on the pill," gasped Chuck, trying to figure out what this
part of the game was for.

   "Nooooooo," she whined.

   "Don't you worry about getting knocked up, fucking all those men?" he
panted.

   "I don't have to worry about that," she moaned, thrusting up against
him.

   "I don't get it," he finally admitted.

   "They can't knock me up," she panted back.  "I'm already pregnant by my
boyfriend."

   =================================

   Though Jane didn't know it, she took a page out of Tiffany's playbook.
When she confirmed that she was pregnant, she went shopping.  The white
blouse was easy, as were the white knee socks.  She couldn't find patent
leather, flat-heeled shoes, with a strap and buckle, and had to settle for
white tennies.  The skirt, black and white checkered, that came to a point
about five inches above her knees, she had to order on the internet.

   Like Tiffany, she went to see Roger unannounced, and at night, when the
neighbors wouldn't be as likely to see how she was dressed.  When he
answered the door, dressed in a light robe, she used the voice she had
practiced, over and over, until she could finally use it without breaking
into giggles.  It made her sound very young.  She had a wad of gum in her
mouth, and remembered to chew it vigorously.

   "Hi, Mister Zee," she said Brightly.  A lot of his students called him
that.  "I know you probably never saw me at school, or anything, but I'm
Jane.  I'm trying to earn some money babysitting.  I thought maybe I could
baby-sit for you."

   Roger stared.  Her hair was in dog ears.  As she stepped into the light,
he gulped.  He could see the dark circles of her areolas through the white
blouse.

   "I ...  um ..." He was not, in any way, shape or form, prepared for her
appearance.  He felt himself spring to attention.  If he hadn't been
wearing boxers under the robe, his prick would have parted the robe and
pointed right at her.  "I ...  well ...  you see ...  I don't have a baby
for you to baby-sit." He had a sudden cold feeling as he realized he'd
blown it.

   "Oh," she said, sounding sad.  Then she brightened.  "That's OK. 
Couldn't I just practice taking care of a baby, then."

   Roger tried to adapt to the situation.  "You want to practice ... 
here?"

   She looked at the ground and put the toe of one shoe down, swinging her
ankle around on it, like she was shy.  "Uh huh."

   Roger got it then.  "Jane," he said softly.  "Does your mother know
you're here?"

   "Uh uh," she said, shaking her head.  Her dog ears flopped.  "She's
visiting my aunt Sophie.  I'm home all alone this weekend, and I got bored,
so I thought I'd try to make some money."

   "Well, I suppose you could practice.  I could pay you a little.  Not as
much as if you actually babysat for me, of course."

   "OK," she said brightly.

   Roger was lost again.  Where did the game go from here?  He improvised.

   "So, what do you want to practice first?" he asked.

   "Well," she said, looking around.  "My sister feeds her baby all the
time.  Maybe we could practice that."

   "We?" he asked.

   "Sure.  You be the baby." she said, pushing him to the couch.  Her
fingers somehow unbuttoned her blouse so quickly that, as Roger started to
sit down, it was buttoned, and as he looked up after he sat down, it was
open.  Her naked breasts, with their stiff nipples, strained towards his
face.  "And I'll be the mommy."

   She put her nipple to his mouth, and he sucked at it gently.

   "Mmmm I like that," whined Jane.  "My sister holds her baby, but you're
too big for that.  Maybe it would work this way."

   She lay down on his lap, and pulled his head to her chest.

   While he sucked at her nipples, he ran a hand up her leg, under the
school girl skirt.  She wasn't wearing panties, and squealed when his
finger slid in her.

   "That's where babies come from," she moaned.

   "I know," he said.

   "Are you sure you don't have a baby?" she moaned.

   "I'm sure," he said.  "Do you maybe want to practice making one?" he
asked.

   "I don't have to," she sighed, bucking up against his finger.  "My
boyfriend already made a baby in me."

   =================================

   The women stayed in close contact after the seminar, during the rest of
the summer.  Roberta kept them apprised of what was happening with her. 
There was great celebration when she shared with them that she was now
living with Jeff.  When Tiffany got pregnant, and then Jane, the women
started making plans.  It was decided that a triple wedding was in order.
It would have been a quadruple one, but Roberta, of course, couldn't get
married for years.  Those who WERE getting married thought it was only fair
that Roberta would be the Maid of Honor for all the weddings, and Jeff
would be the Best Man.  The weddings were tentatively planned for the
following June.

   Once they were in agreement about everything, the plan was for each of
them to get their man to agree to it.

   When Tiffany started teaching, she was a month pregnant, and informed
the administration that, per policy, and her due date, she'd be teaching
six months, until the middle January.  The principal just told her that,
when school broke for the holidays, she might as well consider herself
done, since the kids didn't even come back to school until the middle of
January.  When that time came, she simply moved in with Chuck.  He wanted
to marry her right away, but she made him wait for the others.

   ================================

   It was Woody, always gregarious, who happened on the information that
would reunite the group, or at least most of the group.  A member of a
ballroom dancing club, he was tipped off, at a club dance, that an
opportunity might await in a little town called Sweet Grass, Montana, which
had a border crossing into Canada.  A club member informed him that
contracts were being let to build a whole new subdivision on one side of
Sweet Grass, to house the anticipated increase in personnel who ran the
border crossing.  Delays at other crossing points, due to Homeland
Security, were resulting in increased traffic in little Sweet Grass. 
Besides the agents, support personnel were needed, including teachers.  A
new consolidated school was being built too.

   Woody checked into it, and found out recruiting for teachers for the new
school wasn't going all that well.  Money for the project had been found in
Federal coffers, but getting teachers to move to the middle of nowhere,
where it snowed a hundred inches every winter, and temperatures were
commonly below zero, was proving to be less successful, even though a house
went with the deal.  As long as a teacher stayed and taught, there would be
no mortgage payment.  Theoretically, if a teacher stayed long enough, the
house would become his or her property.

   Woody talked to Crystal.  Crystal talked to the other women, who talked
to the other men.  The pay was good.  There would be no mortgage.  The
current crop of babies, percolating in their wombs, would be old enough
when school started in Sweet Grass to be taken care of by hired help.  You
could dress for the cold - everyone in Idaho knew that already - and ... 
they could all be together.

   Everyone applied, and everyone was accepted.

   Everyone was elated, but Crystal was worried.  She hadn't been able to
get hold of Lori for two months now.  The phone had been disconnected, and
her call to Lori's school had gotten only a frosty "She's no longer
teaching here.  No, I can't give you a forwarding address.  That would
violate our privacy policy."

   Crystal didn't know what to do.  She didn't have any idea how to search
for Lori.  Throughout the eight months following the seminar, Crystal had
called her about once a week, and Lori had always sounded chipper and
upbeat.  She always said she was doing fine.  She said teaching was going
all right.  She never found a boyfriend, but didn't sound unhappy about
that.  She never indicated there was any problem.  Then, one Saturday in
February, she just didn't answer the phone.  Two weeks later she still
hadn't answered the phone, and the disconnected message started.

   It was Tiffany who found out what happened, and she found out by
accident.  She called Bob, to tell him about the triple wedding, and the
fact that his oddball class were all moving to Montana together.  During
the conversation, Bob blithely said "Lori will be thrilled when I tell
her."

   Tiffany's voice had come back: "What?  Lori?  You know where she is?"

   "Sure," said Bob.  "She's sleeping right now, or I'd let you talk to
her."

   "She's THERE!?"

   Bob sighed.  "I told her to call Crystal.  She said she was sure she
could find the number."

   "Bob, what the hell is going on?" moaned Tiffany.  "We've been worried
SICK!  She disappeared off the face of the Earth and Crystal's been going
nuts, trying to find her!"

   "Calm down, and I'll tell you what happened," said Bob.

   He then narrated how, when Lori left his house to move into the
apartment they'd rented for her by phone, she was already pregnant, but
didn't tell him.  She later said that she was afraid he'd feel responsible,
somehow, and she didn't want him to feel beholden to her.  She'd done fine,
initially, but, in the eighth month, there were complications.  She'd ended
up in the hospital and, broke and alone, had finally called Bob.

   "You went and got her, didn't you?" moaned Tiffany.  "PLEASE tell me you
went and got her!"

   "Of course I did," said Bob.  "I had her transferred to a hospital in
Phoenix.  She had the baby and she's doing fine.  She wanted to name him
Zanzibar, of all things.  Can you believe that?  She said she was trying to
think outside the box." He chuckled.

   Tiffany just sputtered into the phone.

   "Anyway," Bob went on, "we finally decided on Timothy.  When she got out
of the hospital, I just moved them both in here.  I keep trying to get her
to marry me, but she's stubborn as hell, Tiffany.  She insists I'm only
offering because I knocked her up!"

   Bob heard a long, drawn - out sigh on the phone.  "But she's OK?" asked
Tiffany weakly.

   "Fit as a fiddle."

   "We were so worried," said Tiffany, her voice stronger.

   "She promised me she was going to call Crystal.  I had to go get her
stuff, and I threw it all in boxes.  She was living in a rat hole.  If I'd
known, things would have happened a lot differently, and a lot sooner."

   "She always told Crystal everything was great," said Tiffany.  "She
didn't call you at all?"

   "Not once," said Bob.  "She said she was trying to be independent."

   "Wait 'til I get my hands on her!" growled Tiffany.

   "She understands better now, believe me," said Bob.  "I came down on her
pretty hard, once she was out of the hospital.  But I can't get her to
marry me."

   "You just let us take care of that!" said Tiffany.  "When Crystal finds
out what happened, she's going to be furious.  She may even come down
there!"

   "Don't be too hard on her," said Bob.  "She was trying to grow up too
fast.  Like I said, I think she understands better, now."

   "Tell me about the baby!" said Tiffany, her voice excited.

   "Born the first of March, about two weeks premature, six pounds on the
button, hair that I'd swear came from Sasquatch, seventeen inches long -
the baby, not the hair - the labor was only seven hours.  Did I forget
anything?" he ended.

   "That will do for now.  And his name is Timothy?"

   "Timothy Gene Nivens," said Bob, proudly.  "I insisted she put me on the
birth certificate, so he could be covered by my insurance."

   "Call you back!" came Tiffany's short voice, and there was an abrupt
click in his ear.

   =====================================

   Tiffany didn't call him back, but Crystal did, about an hour later. 
Lori, in fact, answered the phone.  Bob listened in.

   "Hi Crystal!" she said excitedly.

   "I know," was mournful.  It was mournful the next four times she said
it.

   "I'm sorry," said Lori, beginning to sniffle.  "Things kind of got out
of control."

   ...

   "I KNOW, Crystal!  Crystal!  I had a BABY, Crystal!  He's so darling. 
He looks just like Bob and I love him so much.  We named him Timothy, and
he eats like a horse.  He was so tiny and helpless when he first came out,
but he's gained a LOT of weight and he's grown SO much!"

   ...

   "Of course I love him."

   ...

   "But what if he just feels beholden to me?  I don't want that."

   ...

   "Yes, he's said that a lot of times."

   ...

   "Yes, I believe him."

   ...

   "You really think I should?  That's a pretty big step."

   ...

   "Oh, Crystal, having a baby was easy ...  except for the problems, and
that was just because I was working too hard.  They said it won't happen
again, as long as I take better care of myself.  I didn't get to see the
doctor very much, because it was so expensive.  Bob yelled at me about
that."

   ...

   "Well ...  if you think it's OK."

   ...

   "OK, I'll ask him as soon as I hang up."

   ...

   "OK, bye.  NO!  WAIT!  I can't find your number.  Give it to me again!"

   She looked around, and jumped when Bob's hand appeared over her shoulder
with a pad of paper and a pen in it.  She wrote the number down and then
said "Bye.  I'll call you.  I PROMISE!"

   She turned around to look at Bob.

   "Crystal yelled at me, like you did," she said, pouting.

   "She did, did she?"

   "Yes, and she told me I HAVE to marry you."

   "She did, did she?"

   "Yes.  Do you still want to marry me?"

   "More than anything in the world," he said softly.

   "OK, then," she said, smiling.  "I'll marry you."

   He kissed her long and hard, and crushed her in his embrace, so that she
was panting when he let her loose.

   "Do you remember how I used to always ask you to have sex with me?" she
sighed.

   He nodded.

   "Now that we're going to get married, we can make love."

   "I've always made love with you," he said, surprise in his voice.

   "You should have told me," she sighed, kissing him again.  "I would have
married you then."

   Bob looked at her, stunned, but she didn't notice.

   "I have to go feed Timothy," she said.  "You want to watch?"

   He nodded again, not trusting his voice to speak.  He had a long way to
go with this woman.  Communication would need to be improved.  He grinned
wryly, as she took his hand and pulled him toward their bedroom.

   "After he's done, we can make love," she said.

   ===================================

   Epilogue to the Epilogue

   People filed into the room, looking around.  Most of them felt like
they'd never been to anything like this ...  even though they had no idea
what this was going to be like.  Wives tended to sit close to their
husbands, as they looked around at the other nine couples attending the
Seminar on Human Interaction and Sexual Relations.

   A pregnant young woman came briskly through the door, carrying a sheaf
of papers.  She went to the head of the table.  She was dressed in a pair
of nice slacks, and a pullover shirt that was covering what the women in
the room judged to be a belly that was about seven months pregnant.  Her
shirt, in sparkly letters, said: "Pregnant women do it, obviously".

   "Good morning," she said, brightly.  "My name is Lori Nivens.  Welcome
to the seminar.  My husband, Bob, will be here in a bit.  It's his turn to
take care of getting our three children to child care, but I'll get you
started." She smiled, looking around the room.  "First, I want to
congratulate you for choosing to come here, to an unfamiliar place, with
unfamiliar people.  You'll get to know each other better ...  as mates. 
You'll also probably get to know everyone else in this room, better than
any other people in your lives, including your relatives.  This seminar is
going to change your lives.  I can promise you that."

   People stared at her curiously.  She only looked like she was perhaps
twenty-one years old.  If she'd had three children, and was about to have a
fourth, she'd been popping them out since she was in High School.  Most of
the people in the room were in their thirties.  A woman raised her hand,
and Lori looked at her.

   "Yes?"

   "Excuse me, but aren't you a little young to be an expert on
interpersonal relationships?"

   Lori smiled.  She'd heard it all before.

   "I'm twenty-six, and I'm a teacher," she said, without a hint of
defensiveness in her voice.  "You may get to hear my story while you're
here.  That depends.  But I can promise you that, between Bob and me,
you're going to leave here with a whole different view of the world than
you have right now."

   She looked around the table again.

   "For example," said Lori, looking around the room.  "There are at least
four men in this room who are staring at my nipples right now.  I know this
for two reasons.  The first is that I made sure my nipples were poking
through my shirt before I came in here.  The second is that I know which
four men were staring at my nipples when I said that.  The rest all stared
at them before that."

   There was a rustle of activity, and the nine women in the room
stiffened, and looked at their mates.  Nine men in the room looked
sheepish.

   "So," said Lori.  "Since staring at nipples seems like a universal sort
of thing for men to do, let's just start there.  I can explain what's going
on in this situation, so you ladies can understand that my nipples are not
a threat to your marriage, even when I show them off on purpose.  Relax,
ladies.  By the end of the week, when we're done here, your men won't be
staring at my nipples any more.  They'll be chasing you around the hot tub
instead."

   She grinned.

   "Shall we get started?"

   ===============================================

   The End




   
