The Blameless Bystander

By Autumn Writer

Chapter 3—Beginnings

School commenced on the first Wednesday after Labor Day. James was ready to go. He took his morning workout and had a big breakfast. He chose to walk that day, his apartment being close to the school. After his first few classes, he reckoned that he had more energy than the sea of expressionless faces that he looked out over in each of his four sections.

He was too seasoned to expect enthusiasm. Any expression, even fear, would have been preferable to nothingness. Could they really care so little for that which was so important to them? The only response that he could generate was a muffled groan as he explained the homework expectations. James tried to take it in stride. After all, the main activity of the day was passing out textbooks and outlining rules for homework and grades. Not quite enough to create excitement from teenagers.

Nathan saw James in the Teachers’ Lounge after classes ended and sauntered over to say ‘hello’.

“How did it go today, James?” Nathan asked.

“It was like a science fiction movie,” James answered. “Something like ‘Teen-aged Zombies’,” James answered, only half-joking.

“Don’t worry,” Nathan answered. “They’re sizing you up. They know that you’re new. Teen-agers never give away their feelings to adults if they can help it.”

“It’ll all work out,” James agreed.

“You’ve already earned a reputation as a ‘homework monster’,” Nathan informed him. “Several students tried to switch sections. I told the Guidance Counselors to tell them that all the sections are full—no changes.”

“How much are you giving them?” a voice several feet away interrupted. It was Doris, whom he met at Nathan’s barbecue two nights earlier. She was the senior teacher in the Math Department and coveted the Department Chair position.

“About thirty or forty minutes a night,” Nathan answered.

“They’ll never do it,” Doris asserted.

“If they want a decent grade, they’ll have to,” James argued.

“They’re not going to like it. You don’t know the lay of the land here. It’s not the same as what you’re used to.”

“They’ll like it better when they pass the State Test,” James retorted. “By the time they get to those tests, they won’t even have a doubt that they’ll pass them.”

“State Tests!” Doris muttered with disgust. “You’ll find out,” she said and then looked away.

“Call it as you see it,” Nathan reassured him. “We need results, with or without homework.”

As Nathan moved on to visit the other teachers Doris leaned over to James. She moved close to him to whisper so that Nathan couldn’t hear her.

“What are going to do with this homework, once you collect it?” she asked James in a voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Correct it and give it back.”

“Correct it WHEN?” Doris demanded barely able to keep her voice at a whisper.

“Right now would be good if I had some to correct,” James replied, or I can take it home with me.

“You can’t do that to us!” Doris spat out. “We don’t live like you do—like a hermit in a boarding house. My mother told me that you don’t even have a television set.”

“You have three sections. I have four.”

“That’s another thing…” James could see that Doris was getting angrier and he cut her off.

“Manage your classes as you see fit. I never said that I thought that you should give up television,” he said as he needled her.

“Soon Nathan will put pressure on us all to do it just like you.”

“Only if the students are getting good results,” James said.

Doris heaved an audible sigh of disgust as she rose and stomped out of the room. In the corner of his eye James noticed Nathan observing the exchange.

Doris had tried to discourage James, but accomplished the opposite. Here was confirmation of what he fathomed in his meditations the night before. It was a sign to him that he was meant to be in Bates, teaching Math to students who needed it and could not receive it without him. His excitement was purging the doubts that had only days ago had stifled him. Once again, he felt stirrings in his belly. It was like an old friend, coming to pay him a visit, bearing a potent elixir to awaken his latent soul. He had befriended the feeling in Guatemala as a young man, when imminent ordeal was a pathway to destiny. It was denied him many years ago. Here it was again. He knew that he was right in his approach. Doris’ priorities were different from his. He could barely wait to prove himself.

In truth, James knew that collecting and grading homework from four sections each day was impossible. His plan had never been more than to collect it on a random basis. He failed to mention that to Doris. He wondered if he had been unfair to leave that out of the argument. He decided not. He would have said so if she had asked. He would have said so if he she approached him in a different way. So be it.

**********

James was walking home at a quick pace after his first day on the job. He had been thinking about shopping for a television set after dinner, but the scene with Doris changed his mind. Instead, he thought that he would lay in a supply of groceries. As he rounded the corner of Whitman St. he saw Mrs. Wilkinson in her yard. It wasn’t usual to see her there late in the afternoon. She spent most of her time inside, but there she was.

“Good evening, Mr. O’Toole,” she called out in a pleasant voice. “How was your first day on the job?” It was a potentially disarming approach, and it would have worked if Doris had not poisoned the well with her comments that afternoon about his lifestyle, with his wizened landlady the only potential source.

“Hello, Mrs. Wilkinson,” he called back in measured politeness. “It went just fine, thank you.” James kept walking until he saw the woman start to follow him toward the back of the house, and then he stopped.

“Mr. O’Toole, I need to discuss something,” the woman wheezed as she hurried toward him. James stopped and waited for her to continue. She said nothing as she hitched along, waiting to get up close to him.

“I had to enter your apartment today,” she announced. “I thought that we had an emergency.”

“Really?” James was surprised. “What kind of emergency?”

“I thought that I heard the water running in your apartment. I thought that it might overflow. I had to check it out.”

“Did I leave the water on?” James queried.

“No. Everything was alright—false alarm. Sorry.”

James shrugged and turned to move on. He was suspicious. He decided not to press the issue. He could have argued with her and won, but it wasn’t worth the bother.

“I need to go up there with you to verify that everything is as you left it,” she called after him.

“Not necessary, Mrs. Wilkinson. I trust you,” James said in a vain attempt to dismiss her.

“I insist!” she said. “I know that you think that I’m a fuddy-duddy, but I’m set in my ways.”

James shrugged. It would be easier to accommodate her than to argue. He had nothing to hide, and if he did Mrs. Wilkinson would have already found it in her earlier foray into his quarters. When they got to the top of the stairway James let himself in. Ethel poured herself in right behind him.

“Take a look around,” she ordered, as if she were the one granting the privilege. “Take your time.” She followed him into his bedroom.

James played along. He knew that he would find nothing amiss. She wouldn’t put herself at the scene of the crime if there would be a crime to discover.

“You sure got a lot of books in those boxes,” she observed. James didn’t respond. “What are you going to do with them all?” She tried again.

“When I get a chance I’ll buy one of those bookshelves that you put together. Until then, they’ll have to stay in the boxes,” James answered.

“Have you read all of these?” she pressed on.

“Yes,” James replied. “I’ve read some of them more than once.”

“Is that what you do up here at night—read these books?” she asked.

“Mostly.”

“Why don’t you ever go out?” she asked. “There are some bars near here. You could meet some people.”

“I haven’t had a chance yet,” James countered. “I just moved in.” James knew that the conversation had evolved into an interrogation, but he was sure that he would parry her thrusts easily.

“What are they about?” She wouldn’t give up on the books.

“Mathematics, mostly, and philosophy,” James answered.

“I see that you’ve got a Bible,” she announced her discovery as though it should please him.

“I do,” James agreed. “I’m surprised that you saw it. It was way down at the bottom of the box.”

She bit her lip in embarrassment at being caught, but then struck back. “I saw your Playboy Magazine, too.”

“I’m over eighteen,” was James’ glib reply.

“Well, what did you do before you moved to Bates?” she demanded.

“I taught Math at a High School in Rochester. I was there fourteen years.”

Ethel moved a step closer to James. She squinted, with her head pulled down into her neck as she leaned slightly forward. “Then why move to Bates? Did Nathan bring you here?”

“No, we were never acquainted until I had an interview with him. I took this job so that I could get into the public school retirement system,” he recited.

“It’s pretty rare that someone moves from the city to this part of the State,” she said. “We like to keep things pretty close in this town. It wouldn’t do for outsiders to come in and take over. It would ruin the place! People are going to wonder why you moved down here.”

“I needed a job—like I told you—and the school needed a Math teacher. Here I am.”

James was becoming impatient. He thought about elaborating; assuring her that he didn’t want to take over anything—if even he could do that. But, he decided not to. It wasn’t really true, for one thing, and this scowling, bitter woman didn’t even deserve the answers that he already gave her.

The old woman remained motionless, her expression unchanging. The interrogation was over.

“Is there anything else that I can tell you, Mrs. Wilkinson?” he asked.

She shook her head and about-faced out the door. James closed it after her. It was sure from her questioning that Doris had called her after their spat that afternoon. It would have bothered James if the inquisition had been more of a challenge. Since it wasn’t, he hoisted a skillet out of the cupboard. After a quick hamburger he would try his luck at the grocery store once again.

***********

James pulled into a parking space in the lot of the Thrifty Mart wondering if he should have made a list in advance. He knew the answer, and also that it was too late to worry about it. His first bout in the market had been a rough one, a stranger in housewives’ territory who eyed the intruder with contempt. On his second attempt he hoped to do better.

There was some improvement in that his expectations were more finely honed. Otherwise, the trip was as unsuccessful as his first try a few days before. As he guided his cart through the aisles of cereal and cake mixes, it was apparent that he couldn’t go fast enough, or slow enough, to suit those around him. No matter where he might park his cart, it was in someone’s way. No aisle seemed wide enough.

It was hard to pay attention to the merchandise and the heavy shopping cart traffic throughout the store. For a moment he lost concentration as he ventured through the intersection of two aisles. He never saw the oncoming cart; he might have had the right of way, maybe not. In a second he collided with another cart belonging to a woman coming from the canned vegetable aisle.

“Excuse me. I didn’t see you!” James offered sincerely. “Did I break anything?”

A woman stood behind the cart who peered with disgust at the careless novice. “No, I don’t think so,” she answered abruptly. James tried to back away, but found that the two carts had become locked together in the collision.

“I’ll take care of this. It will just take a minute.” James smiled sheepishly up at his victim, who in turn, looked at the ceiling and rolled her eyes. A small crowd had accumulated in the intersection because of the obstruction in the traffic flow. Finally the carts were disengaged and the woman stalked silently away.

James moved the cart to the side and paused for a second to reset his bearings. It was shocking at how easily everyone became angry at him in this environment.

“You’re new at this aren’t you?” came a voice behind him. It was calm and pleasant, a welcome relief. James spun around. It was Abby, her cart half full of groceries.

“How can you tell?” James joked, happy to see her. She was dressed just like he had first seen her in her denim skirt and sleeveless blouse. This time, she had a light sweater draped over her shoulders to deal with the excess air conditioning of the grocery store.

“I would tell you, but it would take too long,” she smiled.

“That bad?” James asked, already knowing the answer. “I don’t think that I’m cut out for this.”

“You’ll get the hang of it,” she assured him, chuckling. “Well, see you in school tomorrow.” They continued their separate ways.

After he loaded his cart with the staples, he thought that he needed to give himself a treat and headed for the ice cream freezer. There were many more kinds and flavors than he ever thought possible. He stood surveying the choices, wanting to make the most of his self-indulgence. He seemed to be out of anyone’s way, so he took his time.

He felt a thump and heard a minor crash coming from his cart once again. He knew he was not moving, so he felt relieved to be a victim in a collision instead of the perpetrator. He looked up to see Abby laughing at him.

“Sorry, I was going a little too fast.” she teased him.

“I think that you staged that!” James teased back. “Was it for the insurance money?”

“You’ve seen me, so it won’t be hit and run,” she countered.

James had noticed it at Nathan’s party, and again at that moment in the store, how pretty Abby’s face was when she was laughing. She shed all traces of age. Her eyes crinkled at the edges. She traded reserve for spontaneity. James enjoyed the lovely sight, especially intended for him as it was.

“Actually, I hoped that I could find you before you finished your shopping,” she admitted.

James was surprised. What could she want from him?

“I have a problem at the house,” she explained. “Bubba’s on the road down south; he won’t be back until Sunday. I need someone to lift something heavy. I was going to wait for Bubba; then I saw you here at the store tonight. I started thinking that you might help me.”

“What would you want me to do?” James asked. “I’m not very handy.”

“It’s nothing very hard,” Abby assured him. “It’s my washing machine. It needs leveling—jumps around when it spins. If you could just tilt it up for me I could turn the leveling wheels. I could wait for Bubba to do it, but I have such a lot of laundry. I hate the Laundromat.”

It was a simple request. James wanted to help her, especially after he discovered that he could make her laugh and uncover that smile that she hid under her reserve. There was tenseness in his gut that told him to think twice. He tried to. No reasonable excuse came forth.

“My house isn’t very far,” she pressed, ever so slightly. “It won’t take any time at all. How about it?”

There it was again, that smile that so pleasantly unnerved him, and now he noticed that it was planted above her petite, compact little body.”

“How could I refuse?” James replied with nonchalant gallantry.

“That’s the spirit!” she smiled again. “Let’s get to the check out.”

“That’s the spirit!” James repeated to himself. He noted that the secretary had picked up Nathan’s favorite phrase. The tenseness in his stomach clarified. It was the echo of Nathan’s advice to keep his nose clean. He had forgotten already. It was too late to renege. It would be alright. They would fix the washer and he would go. Nothing was intended—nothing would happen. It would be better to get it out of the way.

James pulled his cart into lane seven; Abby into lane eight. They finished almost at the same time. James followed her in his car. As he drove he told himself how naïve he was. How easily it had all happened. How quickly he had forgotten the flirting session in the school several days ago. If they were found out Nathan would never forgive him. It was just to fix a washing machine, but who would ever believe that?

Something like this happened once before when he was a priest, but he hadn’t learned his lesson. The resident priests at the school helped out at the local parishes. A pretty, young bookkeeper at a church where James was assigned had a crush on him. While nothing happened tongues wagged. James was oblivious until it was too late. The truth was sorted out, but never the hard feelings. It was not his fault; why did he feel like it was?

After driving five minutes they arrived at Abby’s house. It was on the State Road outside of town. The house sat back on a large lot. James let out a sigh of relief. At least there would be no neighbors to spy on him.

At the side of the driveway he saw a large turnaround that Bubba constructed for his semi. Abby waited in the driveway for him to park his car behind hers.

“You better put your ice cream in my freezer while you’re here so it doesn’t melt,” she called out as James closed the car door. Abby’s offer made sense, but it made a chill rush through him anew, because it implied that he might be in the house a longer time than he first expected. He was being drawn in—he could feel it—and didn’t know how to stop. He obediently pulled the ice cream from the shopping bags and brought it with him.

“It’s so nice of you to help me with this!” Abby gushed as they made their way to the basement. It was a nicely finished basement with a pool table and a little area with a sofa in front of a stereo and television. The basement was split in two. They went through a door into another room where there were the utilities of the house. The washer and dryer were set against the wall.

“If you could just tilt it backward, I can turn these leveling wheels,” Abby said and she sank to her knees in front of the washer. James stood behind her and tilted the washer backwards. It was a simple task, requiring no thinking on his part, so it allowed his mind and eyes to wander to the Abby’s form below him. He saw how tiny she was, with her hips flaring only slightly. She was dressed quite modestly, but it didn’t matter. He thought back to Friday night when just her nude image in his imagination had brought him so much pleasure. Here they were, a step closer.

Abby scooted to the back of the washer. “Now tilt it forward, please,” she instructed. He did and Abby bent to her task anew. This time she was facing toward him, so he had to be more careful on how and where he looked. He was hoping for his erection to subside before she stood up and saw it. He imagined how insulted she would be. What humiliation would she inflict on him when she saw it?

Abby abruptly stood up. James’ erection hadn’t gone down, but if Abby saw it, she said nothing. “I think that Bubba has a level over there by his tool box.” She pointed to a darkened corner. “If you can get it, then we can check to make sure.”

James was grateful for the momentary escape. He felt strange searching through Bubba’s tools. It seemed like they should be private. He didn’t know how to avoid it. He knew it was just a personal quirk. Still, it was an unpleasant feeling.

“Forget it, Jamie!” he said to himself. “You’ve just been searching through his wife’s underwear—in your mind’s eye. You can’t do worse by handling his tools.”

James brought back the level and set it on the washer. He bent over it and eyed the bubble between the lines in the glass. He turned the level at a right angle and placed it on a different part of the washer. It was perfectly aligned, as well. He glanced to the side. He was startled to find Abby’s face was inches from his own, checking the level with him. He could see the details of her eyes and nose, the pouting softness of her lips and how they were slightly parted. He could kiss her if he chose. He was about to, but quickly stood up.

“It looks like we’re going to do it!” Abby announced. James’ back stiffened at the words and he gazed at her in shock. “Fix it, I mean,” she clarified. She stood motionless, gazing at him. “You’re handier than you think!” James remained silent, beads of perspiration collecting at his hairline.

“James, I didn’t realize how heavy that washer must have been!” she declared, lavishing sympathy on him. “You’re perspiring! I’ll get you some lemonade. You’ve earned it.” She squeezed past him, rubbing her body against his as she did so. James felt every protruding bone and breast as she passed him. His erection was returning, and along with it his fear of discovery.

“No thank you, Abby. I really have to get going,” James whimpered.

“Nonsense, you just sit in the TV room and I’ll bring it right down.”

“No Abby,” James protested. “I really don’t want any lemonade.”

“A beer, then! Bubba has some in the refrigerator. I’ll have one with you.” Abby brightened at the improved idea.

A voice in James’ brain was screaming “Get out! Run away while you can.” James struggled to heed the advice, but his vocal chords and feet had turned to lead. Another voice vied with the first. “Don’t be a jerk. Have a beer with the nice lady.”

“Lemonade would be fine,” James compromised. He sat on the sofa in the TV room while Abby scampered upstairs for refreshments. She returned quickly with a tray with two glasses of lemonade and a plate of cookies.

“I’m so glad to have the company,” she purred as she set the tray on the coffee table. “I get so lonely when Bubba’s gone—and it seems that he’s gone all the time.” James was sitting in the corner of the sofa. Abby took a seat in the center. “You know how it is to be lonely. Don’t you get lonely every night in your apartment? You don’t mind staying a while, do you?” She took a sip from her glass and peered at him from out over the top of it.

“Why don’t you ask Bubba not to go away for so long?” James suggested.

“He says that he has to pay off the semi while the economy’s good,” Abby replied. “You haven’t answered my question. You know how it is to be lonely, don’t you?” She asked again.

“I guess so. I’m just getting used to it,” James answered. Abby adjusted herself so that she was sitting sideways on the sofa. She kicked off her shoes and sat with her feet tucked under her. There were no lights in the TV room, only the one in the stairway. It shone from behind her, outlining her face and casting shadows that invited closer inspection.

“Everyone needs company now and then,” she whispered. “I’m glad that you could stay with me a while.”

“Abby, I shouldn’t be here,” James confessed. “I should go.”

“Oh please stay a while, James—just a little while. I know that you want to,” she pouted.

“It’s not that I don’t like you, Abby,” James protested. “It’s just that…”

“Oh, I know that you like me, James. I saw you looking at me at Nathan’s house. I know that look. I saw how hard you were a few minutes ago, too. I felt it when I rubbed against you. It felt—good.” Abby leaned forward, sliding her tongue over her lips, closing the distance between them inch by inch.

“What about Bubba?” James cried.

“Bubba’s in Texas,” she answered as she drew nearer. She was so close to him, that as she softly spoke James could feel her breath caress his face. It felt soothing and nice. He tried not to, but he liked the warm softness. In a few seconds she would be on him, kissing him, he was sure. It would be the point of no return, because he would kiss her back, and then embrace her. It would naturally follow that they would make love on the sofa, if she would help him, for he had never known a woman.

He decided to let it happen. He was forcing Nathan’s warning from his thoughts. He closed his eyes, anticipating the feel of her softness covering over him.

“I guess this is it,” he thought as he waited for it, “the moment before the point of no return “

A sudden burst of energy surged through him.

“What!” he heard Abby cry. James opened his eyes to find himself standing alongside the sofa, looking down at his temptress as she lay sprawled against the arm of the sofa where James had just been sitting.

“Abby, I just can’t. You’re so nice. I like you, and you’re so beautiful. I just can’t,” he babbled out the best explanation that he could.

“Oh, James, it could be so nice. Why don’t you just sit back down here and relax?” Her words, cloaked in her sweet voice were so convincing. James nearly complied.

“I’ve never done this before. I can’t,” James hoped for sympathy.

“I had already figured that out, James. Don’t worry. I’ll help you,” she pleaded.

“But you’re Bubba’s wife—and Nathan’s secretary,” James countered

Abby’s cheeks reddened. “I understand!” was all that she said and she said it in an angry way. He couldn’t understand why, but his last words offended her. She led him up the stairs. They stopped at the refrigerator and she handed him his carton of ice cream that he put in her freezer. No words were spoken as James walked out the door.

It was a long drive back to James’s apartment, even though the distance was only a few miles. His heart was pounding in the contemplation of what had almost been. He felt bad because he knew Abby was angry.

It would be alright, though. After he unpacked his bags of groceries he would be with her again. No one would see them, not even the prying Mrs. Wilkinson, only separated from them by a single wall. They would go as one into his bedroom, take off their clothes, lie down together on the bed. She would wrap her warm, dainty hands around his hardened penis and then cover his thirsting body with her warm, inviting one. He would call her forth from his mind’s eye. They would make love on his terms, safe from Bubba, Nathan and guilt.

*******

The next day was a busy one at school. It was the first real day of instruction. James did not see Abby, although he silently wondered what would happen if he did. He wanted to be friends with her, to know that she liked him, perhaps even desired him from afar.

It was after James’ third section, just before lunch, that a young, pretty, blonde girl stood before James as he was packing up his books. She had been in the class that just ended, sitting in the back alongside a muscular young man. He was a little irritated that the pair was more intent on looking at each other than the derivation of the sine function that James so carefully placed on the blackboard.

James looked up. “Yes?” he acknowledged her.

The girl gave a sheepish grin. “Mr. O’Toole, I’m Becky Chandler.”

“How do you do, Miss Chandler,” he answered. James waited for a second. He knew that she wouldn’t answer. Teens always had trouble speaking to adults. “What’s on your mind?”

“My father said that I had to come and talk with you,” she started, then paused. James waited. “I took this course last year and didn’t do very well,” she explained.

“You failed it?” James probed.

“No,” she corrected. “I withdrew, but I would have failed it if I hadn’t. Now, I’m in senior year and I have to pass it to graduate. My father says that I can’t cheerlead if I don’t get extra help.”

James was tempted to lecture on the folly of equating cheerleading with graduation, but passed the opportunity. She wouldn’t have believed him.

“Help is available,” James told her. “You know there is a system if you want to get a private tutor.”

“Yes, I know. Everyone knows about the tutor system. I was hoping that if I got a tutor I could do that in place of the homework.”

James shook his head. “The homework is to help you learn the material. You should do the homework with the tutor. I can’t release you from the homework while the rest of the class has to do it.”

Becky rolled her eyes. “That’s a lot of work! I can’t do it.”

“It will only take you as long as it takes to watch one television program. You may not like it, but you’ll enjoy passing the State Test,” James admonished.

“But the tutor…”

“The tutor can only help you.” James interrupted. “You have to learn it yourself.”

Becky took a deep breath and started to stammer out a new protest.

“I’m sorry, Becky. That’s the way it is,” James sternly cut her off.

Becky let out her stored breath and her head sunk in disappointment.

“Can I sign up for you to tutor me?” she asked after a pause.

“You don’t have to sign up with me,” James said. “You can ask any Math teacher.”

“All the other teachers know me,” she replied curtly. “They don’t like me.”

“I doubt if anyone dislikes you, Becky, but if you want, I’ll tutor you. Take this form home. Have one of your parents sign it. When you return it, we’ll set up a time.”

The girl took the paper from him without saying a word. She turned to leave. As she did, James caught a glimpse of her young man waiting just outside the open door. It nagged at James that he had seen the pair before, but could not place them. He shrugged. It wasn’t important.

“See, I told you,” James heard him cajole her as she walked through the doorway.

************

At seven o’clock that Thursday night the Reverend Ethan Chandler passed through the heavy doors of the First Baptist Church. It was one of the angry stone buildings in the center of town. It had a tall steeple that seemed to reach to the heavens. It could be seen from any part of the town and from the farms on the hillsides. The Reverend didn’t go into the sanctuary, but turned into a stairway off to the side in the vestibule that led to the basement. There was a conference room there and he went in and turned on the lights.

He was early. He wanted a chance to be by himself, to get his thoughts together before the others on the Church Board arrived. Upstairs he could hear the choir practicing for Sunday Service. They were singing “Rock of Ages”, his favorite. He found himself humming along, as usual. He couldn’t give it his usual robust effort. Other things weighed heavily on him.

His pondering was interrupted by the first of the Board members to arrive. It was Jarrod Morris. Besides being a Board Member of the Church, he was Mayor of the Village of Bates, and owned the largest insurance agency in town. He was born and bred in the town. He was a natural for the Board membership, except that his political office made him feel a little uneasy that someone might accuse him of a conflict of interest. At the same time, he was good at organizing and business. People weren’t lining up for either the Village or Church offices, so he was safe enough. He was a large man, an athlete in his younger days. At the age of forty-five he retained his charismatic good looks. His voice was strong and when he spoke people listened to him.

“Good evening, Ethan,” Jarrod hailed the pastor. Although the Reverend was not a native of Bates, the two men had known each other for years. Chandler settled in the town shortly after the First Baptist Church recruited him after his seminary days. The two men were quite different in appearance and outlook, yet were fast friends. They were about the same age. The Reverend was tall, as his friend, but his features were thin and reedy. The bones of his face, set atop a pencil-thin neck, formed cutting edges beneath his thinning blond hair and large ears. He had light-colored, hazel eyes that seemed to blunt any display of emotion. His lips were thin, too, and they poured out plenty of brimstone each Sunday morning.

“The others should arrive soon,” Chandler replied. There were three others on the board; Chandler and Morris would drive it. The others would discuss for a time, and then go along. They could be heard noisily clattering down the hallway.

“You would think that after Labor Day the weather would cool off,” Mrs. Corbett complained. The corpulent woman was placed on the Board several years ago to keep her interested in running the Bake Sale.

“I remember summers like this,” an elderly, bespectacled gentleman replied. “Always leads to hard winters.” Howard Jones was a retired Town Clerk. The fifth member said nothing. It was Hazel Ferguson, a Sunday School teacher.

Each of them sat around the conference table, trying to find a comfortable position. They knew that a long meeting was about to begin. The choir continued rehearsing, but the Board members barely heard them.

“We all know why we’re here,” Jarrod began. “It’s because…”

“Ahem!” Ethan interrupted.

“Oh, I’m sorry Reverend. Please get us started,” Jarrod excused himself.

Chandler stood and the four others bowed their heads. “For our invocation tonight, let us join together in silent prayer, asking God to grant us wisdom as we deliberate.” The Reverend stood silently while the others sat. After half a minute of asking silently for wisdom he uttered “Amen!” and sat down.

Jarrod wasted no time. “Like I was starting to say, we’re here tonight to decide how to set our Church finances right.”

“We started talking about this last week, but didn’t get very far,” Howard Jones spoke up. “Where do we stand, anyway?” he asked.

“Not quite making ends meet,” Jarrod replied. “Tom Hawkins at the bank is helping us all that he can. He’s supposed to put our mortgage into the ‘delinquent file’ but was able to delay it. He doesn’t know how much longer he can do it. If an auditor shows up…”

“I think that we have too much waste,” Mrs. Corbett interjected. “We need to cut waste.”

“Such as what, Mrs. Corbett?” Jarrod asked patiently.

“Why there are just so many things. The church bulletin, for example, is on two pages and…”

“I don’t agree,” Jarrod interrupted. “We can try to cut corners. We already are. What we really need is more money in the collection plates.”

“We have plenty of members,” Ethan added. “The problem is that too many aren’t attending Sunday Services. Very few send in their tithe if they aren’t at the service. We need to get more people in the Church.”

“Where do you think they are, Ethan? Why aren’t they coming on Sundays?” Jarrod asked.

“I think a lot of them have one spouse as members of our church and the other spouse belonging to another church. Other denominations allow more leeway in their teachings. I think that there’s been some slippage to the Presbyterians,” he answered.

“I know why,” Hazel Ferguson offered. “A lot of the members are farmers. It’s easy to put church aside after you’ve been up at five in the morning, milking and doing other chores. If they don’t feel a real need, they skip a few times, and then soon they skip more times than they come.”

Hazel’s observations made a lot of sense. The other four nodded in agreement.

“We’ve got to let people know where we stand financially,” Jarrod proclaimed. “We have to get them to give more, even if they can’t attend.”

“That won’t be easy. I won’t beg for money from the pulpit,” Ethan stated.

“If you don’t we’ll be breaking up the pulpit for firewood,” Jarrod warned. Ethan hung his head.

“I know what brings them in,” Howard Jones told them. “Scandal. Remember when the Mayor who preceded Jarrod ran off with the Public Health Nurse? The church was packed. Everyone wanted to let God know that they had nothing to do with it.”

“Well, we have no scandal to help us right now,” Jarrod quipped.

“There is always scandal,” Ethan uttered in a dark, brooding voice. “It usually gets covered up, but it’s always there waiting to be found out.”

The Reverend’s admonishment silenced the assemblage. Jarrod recovered.

“Let’s do a letter campaign and personal visits to get the collections up,” he said.

The Board stayed until ten, their plan worked out. When they were ready to adjourn they prayed to God to send them money.

***********************

Classes were over on Friday afternoon and James was closing out his first week on his new job. Becky Chandler turned in her tutoring form to him after class, as had two other students, so James had three tutoring clients. He was glad for the extra income. It would help him pay off his brother for the car. He hoped to move to a nicer apartment, away from the prying Mrs. Wilkinson, and by nexus, from daughter, Doris.

James sat in the Math Office at his desk, correcting homework papers. He was half-way through the stack and he wasn’t encouraged by what he saw. He reluctantly admitted to himself that it would be a struggle to get many of the juniors and seniors through Trigonometry. He would do what he could. He would inform Nathan of the need to lay better groundwork with the freshmen and sophomores if progress on the State Test would ever be realistic. He was all alone in the office. The other Math teachers were long departed, or socializing in the teachers’ lounge.

“I knew that I would find you in here,” a voice behind him broke his concentration. James spun around in his office chair to find the speaker, Vicki Morgan, standing over him. “I looked in the lounge first. I should have known better.”

“Hi!” James greeted her. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I have to be very quiet,” Vicki pointed out with a note of sarcasm. “Nathan might see me,” she said, reminding James of the flirting session at the Labor Day barbecue.

“I was just correcting some papers,” James explained.

“Oh yes, you’re the homework man,” she said, continuing her sarcastic tone. “Everyone is talking about how you love to give homework. I even hear it in the English Department.”

“It’s for their own good,” James answered defensively.

“It’s not from the students that I hear it. Their attention span was spent after the first day,” she corrected. “It’s from the teachers. They’re afraid that they’ll have to start giving homework assignments, too.”

“And what is the attention span of the teachers?” James asked derisively.

“Unfortunately, a lot longer than the students,” Vicki answered.

“The students need repetition to master the principles of…”

“The teachers understand all that. They just don’t want the extra workload,” Vicki interrupted. “You don’t have to defend yourself. It makes no difference to me.”

She paused and James did the same. Her answer satisfied him, at least as far as she had the power to do so.

“That’s not the reason that I was looking for you,” she continued. “I wanted to see if you’re going to the football game tonight.”

“Hadn’t thought about it,” James answered.

“Why don’t you?” Vicki encouraged. “The game’s against Dansville. Afterward, some of the teachers are going to meet at Shorty’s for a few drinks. It’ll be fun.”

“Shorty’s?” James asked.

“It’s a bar down on the State Road. C’mon—it will help your image.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” James agreed.

“You’ll find a group of us in the stands at the game. It starts at seven. We’ll head to Shorty’s from there.

James put away his papers. He decided to head to his apartment and grab a shower and a sandwich before the game.

********

The weather was nice that evening. As the sun started setting it was just cool enough for a light sweater, but not much else. When James arrived at the game he searched for the section in the stands with the teachers. The teams were going through their final warm-ups so he hoped to get into the stands before they played the National Anthem.

“James—over here! Come sit with us.” It was a familiar voice, but not Vicki’s. He looked around. “James—over here!” He finally saw Abby in the middle of a section. Her friendly demeanor surprised him. After the session at her house on Wednesday night, he was certain that she would never speak to him again. He gave a sudden start when he saw Bubba sitting next to her. His first inclination was to beg off and find Vicki’s group. Then he caught sight of Nathan sitting three rows above them. He headed up to where they were sitting. He waved at Nathan who nodded back approvingly.

“Sit right here, James.” Abby slid over a little to make room so that she would be between James and her husband.

“Hey, James. Nice to see you!” Bubba cried as he thrust his meaty forearm across his wife’s chest to shake hands. “I just got in from Texas; thought that we’d take in the game. The team is supposed to be pretty good this year.”

“I told Bubba how you helped me with the washing machine,” Abby interjected. The hairs on the back of James’ neck stood up. This scene was becoming too complicated for him to figure out.

“Hey, thanks for doing that,” Bubba said. “I hope that it didn’t take you too far out of your way.”

“He wouldn’t even take a glass of lemonade in payment!” Abby frowned in mock frustration.

“I don’t blame him. You should’ a offered him a beer,” Bubba laughed.

“I was invited to go to a place named Shorty’s for drinks after the game,” James said, eager to change the subject.

“Great place!” Bubba assured him. “You’ll find it on the State Road, next to the motel with the truck turnaround. The same guy owns both places. A lot of truckers stop there when they’re up this way.”

James nodded, grateful for the directions.

“They play a lot of Country Music there,” Bubba continued. “Hey, Sugar Plum,” he turned to Abby, “wanna go down there for a while and take a few turns around the dance floor?”

“Not tonight, Bubba. You just got home. We have…you know…other plans,” Abby said in a soft, coquette-like voice—at least as soft as she could and still be heard above the cheering of the crowd. Bubba laughed and put her harm around her shoulder. He bent down and kissed her on the forehead, and then returned his attention to the game.

James had been listening to the husband and wife exchange. Abby turned to James and leaned close to him so that she could speak under the crowd noise. “I’ll bet that I can get him to have a glass of lemonade with me!” She glanced up at James as she pointed at her husband, straight into his eyes, and passed her tongue over her lips.

At first James tried to force himself to look away, but could not. After a few seconds he did not try, relishing the connection. He burned it into his memory so that he could use it later. As quickly as the episode unfolded, it was over. Abby looked away, withdrawing the contact.

James knew that she thought that she was denying him, but he knew differently. He had captured her look, burned into his brain. She didn’t know that he had made love to her in his apartment, laid with her, felt her around him. She could not know, but it was true. It was a fact in another dimension created and controlled by the mind—his mind. It was a space in which anything could happen, where no one would suffer and all could be forgiven, if forgiveness was in order.

At the end of the game everyone was in good spirits. Bates won. Abby and Bubba were going home to lie together. As he drove to Shorty’s Bar, James was thinking of them undressing one another. Bubba would lie naked on the bed waiting. Abby, nude, would slowly descend to lie upon him, painting her softness on his large body. She would be warm. She would make him feel stronger—as strong he certainly was. They would kiss. They would…”

Each time James would approach the rest of the act in his mind’s eye he would stop, because he didn’t know how to continue. It was so frustrating. He had to be missing the finest portion. He had an erection and he was panting. He had to calm down before going inside the bar, and it was just up ahead. He tucked away his inner vision for the moment. By the time he parked the car his raging body had cooled.

There was a three-piece band playing at Shorty’s and couples on the dance floor. James stood just inside the front door and surveyed the tables. He saw a group that looked like teachers in the corner. He looked closer and saw Vicki waving to him and yelling something that he couldn’t hear over the band. James weaved his way through the crowd to join them.

Vicki introduced James to everyone. He already knew a few of them from Nathan’s barbecue. It was a convivial group. There were about eight teachers, each with a spouse, except James and Vicki. A few danced to the Country tunes. James thought that a few of the women glanced at him as if they expected that he would ask them to dance, but James did not, although he considered it. He didn’t know how to dance, or to ask a woman to do so. He had a lot to learn, he told himself.

Most of the couples limited themselves to two drinks and the number in the corner slowly dwindled. Finally, only he and Vicki remained. The band was on a break.

“Do you like Country Music, James?” Vicki asked.

“I’ll wait until I hear more of it before I decide,” James answered tactfully.

“I’ll take or leave of it,” Vicki said honestly. “It serves the purpose. You can get used to it. It’s better than silence.”

“What about just sitting down and talking?” James asked.

“That’s alright, but it can get old, too. When the conversation runs out you need something to fill the void. If you don’t…that’s probably what happened between me and my ‘ex’,” she mused in a resigned tone, and then snapped back cheerfully. “When the band starts again, I’ll teach you to dance.”

She saw the doubt in James’ eyes. “Don’t worry, we’ll wait for an easy one.” She assured him. She leaned closer, like she did at Nathan’s barbecue. “Whatever happens, I won’t tell a soul.”

The band came out and hooked up their instruments once again. They started playing “Behind Closed Doors”, the Charley Rich ballad. “This is a good one!” Vicki exclaimed as she rose and took James’ hand and led him to the floor.

“Hold me like this,” she instructed.

James held her stiffly. Vicki closed the gap between them and they were swaying to the easy rhythm. James was taller than her by nearly a foot. As they swayed with the music their thighs rubbed together. James felt her breasts. He was getting an erection, which he tried to fight off, but could not help. He was sure that Vicki could feel it, but she didn’t say anything about it.

“See, it isn’t that difficult,” she purred. James didn’t answer, but kept swaying and allowing Vicki to press herself against him. He found that he liked it. He enjoyed the feeling and the excitement. It was so convenient. There was no one to see him, report back to Nathan, his landlady, Bubba or anyone else.

“I don’t live far from here,” Vicki whispered in his ear as the song was ending. “Would you like me to show you my apartment?”

For James, it was a big moment. He wanted to go; fear slowed him. If he agreed, it would be the point of no return. If he said ‘no’, he could wait for the next opportunity.

Vicki tightened her hold around his shoulders and ground her breasts into him anew. She stepped one foot around his so that his thigh nestled between her two.

“Well?” she asked.

“Yes,” he answered. He wanted it to be a more suave response but the one-word answer was all that he could muster. It was enough.

*************

There was no doubt in James’ mind that he had passed the point of no return. His virginity had hours, if not minutes of life remaining. Vicki seemed like an appropriate candidate to perform the initiation. She had such an easy, ‘not the end of the world’ attitude toward sex, so it seemed to James. Lack of performance didn’t seem to faze her, at least when they were dancing. He tried to figure out if he should tell her it was his first time, or if he should pretend that it wasn’t. He couldn’t decide, except that he would not decide. He hoped that the moment would show him the right way to go.

James thought of how close it had been that Abby would have been his first lover and wondered how that would have been. He would have longed to please her, and probably could not have done well. Vicki seemed more a person who could break him in without being disappointed. James could tell that she was more experienced than Abby, her feelings less tender, expectations tempered. If James failed her, she would move on to another. Besides, Vicki was unmarried, as he was. There would be no breaking of rules, except Nathan’s, and he need not know. There would be no guilt or remorse. Abby was where she belonged, in Bubba’s arms. It would be better this way.

James guided his car into the parking lot of a large apartment complex, following Vicki. He was glad for the setting. It was more anonymous. Neither he nor his car would be recognized as it blended into the scores of others. He parked next to Vicki’s car and they walked together to her building.

“This looks like a nice place,” he said to her, making small talk.

“It’s alright,” she answered. “I moved in here after my divorce eight years ago. I didn’t want a lawn to mow and plumbing to fix. I don’t have a man around to take care of that.” She turned to James as she inserted her key. “And when I do have a man around I don’t want him wasting time mowing the lawn,” she added with a smirk.

“I wasn’t planning on mowing the lawn,” James replied, showing her that he understood the double meaning. There was a limit to his naïveté.

“Can I get you something?” she asked when they were in the apartment. James shook his head. “Maybe afterward,” she conceded. She opened her arms and James took the cue to embrace her. Vicki tilted her head upward and opened her lips slightly.

It presented James with a dilemma. He had never a kissed a woman, in a sexual way. He had not even done so on the few dates that he had in high school. He hadn’t anticipated that his inexperience would be apparent too soon in the encounter. He had to try, at least, so he bent his head down and pressed his lips against hers. He depended on her to take the lead.

Vicki relaxed into the kiss and opened her lips a little wider. James responded, finding it easier than he thought it would be. Vicki snaked out her tongue, searching for his. James was startled at first; he tensed and pulled away a little, but then returned to the pleasant task. They continued for about a minute before Vicki pulled away, but held the embrace.

“Mmmm!” she purred. “You’re a good kisser.” She smiled up at him. James found solace in the flattery; deep-down he realized that it was no more than that. “You’re a lot taller than me. It’s a little inconvenient,” she observed. “Why don’t we go into the bedroom where we can lie down?”

She didn’t wait for James to answer. She folded his hand into hers and led him through the living room to her bedroom. When they arrived she released him and turned down the bed covers. Vicki turned back to him and kicked off her shoes. James followed suit and waited for the next move. Vicki stood motionless, inflicting a sweet torture, making him grope for the initiative. He couldn’t find it. “You’re a shy fellow!” she whispered. “I like that!”

James heart was pumping hard. He was hard and it strained against his clothes. He stripped off his sweater, and then stood still, afraid to go on. Vicki’s eyes pierced him, searching.

“Vicki, I need to tell you something,” uttered James. He was trembling and couldn’t make himself stop. He paused, hoping for an epiphany of the right words. Vicki’s eyebrows furled in anticipation of what he had to say. He had to just say it.

“This is my first time doing this. I’ve never done this before. I’m sorry,” he blurted out, still shaking.

Vicki’s face spread into a broad smile and she looked up at him with a gentle look. “Why, I knew that from the start,” she consoled him. “It’s alright. That’s part of what I’m looking forward to—to be your first.”

“How—how did you know?” James suspected Abby told her, but refused to believe it.

“I knew it since Nathan’s party when I tried to rest my breast against your arm,” she informed him. “You must have jumped ten feet.” She giggled a little. “I bet you wouldn’t do that right now,” she said in a low voice as she pressed up against him. James nervously shook his head.

“Well, you’ll get to do a lot more than that in just a little bit,” she said in a sing-song voice. “Now, let me help you with these clothes.” Vicki started unbuttoning his shirt. James started to lift her sweater.

“No, just let me take care of you this first time. Let me take care of everything,” she ordered in a gentle voice.

Vicki finished with his shirt and he allowed her to push it off his shoulders. The air felt cold on the bare skin of his chest. Vicki let her hands roam all over it. She did it softly at first, and then pressed harder, testing the tone of his torso.

“Nice muscles,” she purred, then clasped her lips around his left nipple, and stroked it with her tongue. She finished with a gentle bite. It was sensuality James had never known. An electric current seemed to pass from his nipple to his penis. His breathing became irregular and shallow. “You’d like to do that to mine, wouldn’t you?” she queried in a husky voice. “Soon, I’ll insist on it.” The thought of it increased his excitement.

Vicki turned her attention to James’ trousers. She unbuckled the belt and released the waistband. She stripped them down, slacks and underwear together in one motion. She carefully slid the waistband over his erection. James was naked before her. She clasped a warm, soft hand around his manhood. Some viscous fluid had leaked from James onto her hand. She licked it off. “Nice!” she drawled and raised her eyes up at him. She lowered her hand and cupped his scrotum. James gasped and struggled not to ejaculate.

Vicki nudged James backward slightly, his cue to lie on the bed, which he did. He quickly dispensed with his socks and watch. Vicki stood at the foot of the bed. They had not turned on the bedroom lamp. The only light was coming from the hallway. Vicki lit a candle on her dresser and stepped out to turn off the outer light.

“Now it’s my turn to lose these clothes.” She raised her sweater, exposing the skin of her midriff. She paused a second, and then removed it. She had large breasts, encased in a lace bra. James drank in the sight of them. In the flickering of the candlelight he tried to make out the details—the nipples if he could. It wasn’t possible. His eyes could only make out two large promises.

Vicki shed her slacks and set them on a chair nearby. She had on lace panties that matched her bra. They were violet and contrasted with her fair skin and hair.

“See,” she said, “I wore these just for you.”

Vicki was shorter than average, but she was not slender and petite. Her breasts were set on a frame to match. She wasn’t fat, maybe one or two extra pounds in the middle. Her thighs were short and muscular, but the skin was smooth and sleek. She stepped slowly and silently from the head of the bed to sit next to where James waited.

She reached over and stroked him once again. James was leaking copiously, more each minute. She licked a drop from her finger, then reached again and lightly stroked his sack with the pads of her fingers. James gasped at the pleasure, and struggled to hold back.

“You’re really excited, aren’t you?” Her question was more an acknowledgement. “You might go off like a rocket before we get to the good part.” James quickly nodded in agreement. “I know how to take care of that.” She bent forward and kissed him. “Help me off with my bra.” she commanded. James reached behind her and unclasped it. He took the shoulder straps in his fingers. Vicki rose back up; the bra stayed behind in James’ hands.

Her breasts, finally free, took on their natural shape. They rested comfortably on her chest, far more beautiful, in James estimation, than as prisoners in their harness. He dropped the bra on the floor and reached up to take hold of them. Vicki leaned forward a little to help him, and that enabled her breasts to swing a little away from her torso. They were soft, but with firmness underneath. He rubbed his thumbs over the nipples and he felt their hardness. It was a pleasure to feel them. Vicki closed her eyes and tilted her head back, her breath quickened. James felt satisfaction at returning pleasure to her.

Suddenly, Vicki opened her eyes and straightened up.

“We’ll do more of that later. First we have to get some relief for you.” All at once she straddled James, sitting atop him. James felt his hardness pressing into the lace of Vicki’s panties. The barrier confused him. Before he could ask she eased herself down his body, sliding her warm skin over him. When her breasts passed over his throbbing penis, he nearly exploded. Vicki moved on, lower. Finally she stopped so that her face was over his groin. She slid her hands under his flanks.

“This will take the pressure off. It will help you later.”

She lowered her lips to the crown of his penis, sucking gently. James gasped again, and tensed his buttocks muscles to raise himself up higher. He had never known such pleasure. Vicki continued, moving her head around slightly to make contact with each nerve. She flicked out her tongue to tease more. James knew that he was losing control.

“Just let it come. Don’t fight it and don’t worry about a thing,” she instructed as she lifted off him for a second. With that she opened her mouth wide and swallowed him completely. When he hit the back of her throat she started a gulping motion. James’ body released and sent his semen hurtling down her throat. He issued out a loud moan as he let go. He pulsed a half-dozen times. Vicki kept him inside her mouth until he was soft again and she had taken all that he had to give at the moment.

“Wasn’t that fun?” she lilted as she climbed up to lay beside him. James was still panting, unable to speak. It didn’t matter—Vicki knew the answer.

“We’ll just relax a while until you recover.”

“Vicki, that was …” he started, but she placed a finger over his lips to silence him.

“Did you know that you’re my first virgin?” she asked, propped on her elbow with her breasts draped on his chest. “I just knew at Nathan’s party that we would get together one day. When Nathan chased me off, I thought that someone else would have you ahead of me. This all worked out so well.”

James was lost for words. He caressed one of her breasts as it lay on him. Vicki leaned forward and kissed him on his lips. It was harder than their first kiss—more urgent. She thrust her tongue into his mouth and he tasted himself on her. It was hard to get used to at first, but Vicki wasn’t ready to release him so he decided to get used to it. It was a small price to pay. James enjoyed the skin to skin contact that he had never felt before, her weight on top of him and the feeling of her small movements.

Vicki rolled to her back. James shifted to lie aside her, waiting for instruction.

“Suck on my nipples like I did on yours when we first came in,” she whispered. James complied. He laved first one, then the other. He rested his head on her chest so that he could hold them. He tried different things and when she mewed her pleasure, he knew that he had done well. “Just keep doing that for a little while,” she panted as he hit a combination of pressure and movement that she liked. She arched her back to deepen the contact. James enjoyed doing it, and recorded each maneuver for future use.

After a while James let his free hand roam over her torso and thighs. The insides of her legs were soft and fleshy. He knew that he would be between them in due course. He just let his fingertips enjoy the feel of them. He sensed that Vicki liked it, too.

“Help me off with my panties,” she requested. James released her breast and knelt on the bed, straddling her. She raised her hips and James slid them off. An aroma escaped that James had never experienced, but he liked the scent and knew it was good. He lay back down beside her.

“Just touch me gently down there,” Vicki said. “Put a finger inside me.” James complied. He found Vicki drenched in her own fluids. She bucked her hips up as his finger entered her. James moved his digit inside her, and then closed his palm over her hair-covered mound. “You learn fast, James,” she panted at him. It gave him confidence.

“Put yourself between my legs,” Vicki ordered after James had worked on her for a while. He was hard again, perhaps more so than before Vicki had worked her oral magic on him. As he positioned himself, Vicki bent her knees and spread her thighs open. James looked down at her in the candlelight. First he scanned her wet sex, then her wondrous breasts now laying flat against her chest. Finally he gazed at her face, eyes open and eager, her arms reaching upward in invitation. James sank down into them. He felt the heat from her body again. It was nice. He felt himself pressing somewhere against her, but couldn’t find her opening.

“Let me help you; lift up a little,” she instructed. She reached underneath him and took hold of him. She shifted her position slightly and let go of him. James felt the crown of his penis resting where it was wet and warm. It felt good. He stayed motionless for a second. He wanted to remember.

“Just come ahead now,” she said calmly. “Push all the way into me.”

James thrust forward. He felt a rush of warmness. It was like being in her mouth, except warmer and tighter. The pleasure was sublime. He fell forward on top of her. Vicki pressed her hips up to bring him in deeper—it felt even better.

James pressed back, and then withdrew so that he could press in again. He rose up onto his elbows. He found a natural rhythm with Vicki. She was correct; despite the pleasure he would hold off far longer before ejaculating.

“You’re doing just fine,” Vicki assured from below. “Keep it up.” James heard her moan with pleasure.

Before long James felt his climax approaching. He was uncertain.

“Don’t hold back—let it go. You’ve been fantastic,” Vicki urged. James let it go. He filled her; it was good. It was an end and a beginning. There was nothing to regret.

When James softened, Vicki released her embrace and he slid off to her side.

“Let’s get some sleep now. In the morning we can practice some more,” Vicki said in good humor. “This was so nice.” She kissed him on the cheek and then got up to go to the bathroom. On the way back to the bed she stopped at the dresser to blow out the candle.

**************

In the morning they had sex again, and once more as they showered together. It was good, but not as new as the session the night before. Afterward, Vicki made breakfast for them. James noticed that Vicki didn’t look quite as good in the morning as she did at night, but he tried not to think about it.

“I hope that you’ll invite me back soon,” James said.

“Why, of course, sugar!” Vicki exclaimed. “In fact, I’m not busy tonight. Why don’t you come back for dinner?”

“I’ll bring some wine,” James promised.

“How did you enjoy your first time, James?” she asked.

“I loved it. I could never have imagined it.”

“That’s great, but remember one thing,” Vicki warned. “You can love sex. We can have a lot of sex. But don’t love me. It’s not the same. We can be friends, but don’t fall in love with me. I won’t love you back.”

“Fair enough!” James answered.

As he drove back to his apartment later that morning, he wondered at the meaning of what she told him. He’d agreed to her dictum without thinking. In the situation, it seemed that agreeing was the thing to do.

**************

TO BE CONTINUED