The Sexual Education Blues

by Lubrican

Chapters: Cast | Prelude | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9-31 & Epilogue Available On

PLEASE NOTE: This is a preview of this novel. It is available for purchase in its entirety via

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 sauna and hot tub were welcome comforts when things cooled off.

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, unable to resist the urge to tease her a little, 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.

Crystal paid him much more attention than he knew. 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 offer 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 tried to put the matter at rest.

"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 vacant seat. There were three "two person" seats down each side of the bus, and a long seat that went across the back. All six of the short seats were 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, pressed against the window. She was looking out the window through 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 pamphlets 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 join the rest. 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 diminutive 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 really difficult. 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. Phillip 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 actually felt warm.

They surfaced, and treaded water, facing each other.

"That was terrible!" chided Jane.

"Boyish and juvenile," he agreed, grinning.

They tread water for a while. They could hear what sounded like an argument going on at the table of other teachers.

Roger propelled himself in a circle. "There's a sauna right over there. I haven't been in a sauna for years."

"We just got in the water," said Jane, sounding confused.

"And we can get back in the water to cool off from the sauna," said Roger. "We're in the desert and I haven't broken a sweat all day."

Jane had never been in a sauna before. All she knew was that they were supposed to be hot. Because she didn't have an ounce of fat on her body, she often felt chilled and, even though she wasn't chilled at the moment, she decided that 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.

NOW Jane was chilled, as the night air hit her after the warmer water. The wet suit clung to nipples that were even stiffer than usual as her body reacted to the temperature change. He saw her shudder once, like a dog shaking water off its coat.

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, as if 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 also 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 shool 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 ... 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, like Christopher had. And, like Christopher, she was professionally courteous, taking 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 on over there," she said, pointing to another doorway, that led to the staff bathroom. "But don't tell anybody I let you do 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 so they looked in different drawers. Jeff found 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. With his wife living with her parents, the only diversions he had were running and working out. It was how he worked off his sexual energy too. Being around women like these, he had built up a little sexual energy, 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, put it back, and 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, 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 she'd picked up back down.

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 the skin on her stomach. 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 attempted to cover 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. Her breasts required a couble C cup so, on a normal woman, they wouldn't be considered 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 it. 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, 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, reminiscent of a model on a runway, made her breasts bounce enticingly, and her hips rose and fell like those of a hunting Cheetah. She had a vaguely feline look, as if 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 he was carrying over his loins and hurried on to the hot tub. He was so intent on getting into the tub where his erection wouldn't show 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, feeling 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 outer 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, beside him, but resisted the urge. He felt his prick flex as the movement of the water made her leg move against his thigh gently and wondered briefly how in the world he could sustain an erection in water this hot.

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 it, 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 and sat up, both to get her legs 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 remained 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'd 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 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, teachers. And, 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, though 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. Her brain told her that her chest was bare again, and she 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, but 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 educators. 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.

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