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.

   To be continued


   
