The Sexual Education Blues
Chapters: Cast | Prelude | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9-31 & Epilogue Available On
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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 to, 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, none-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 go 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 arm's 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 anything. 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 standoffish. 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 fiancÚ, 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 signed 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 think 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 spirits 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 a fantasy, 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 Nivens 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.
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