Double Take
Chapter 41
“To describe a kiss is to describe a diary entry or a pair of underwear—each is personal and private, slightly awkward. Very awkward. But necessary.”
—Caroline George, The Vestige
MOST OF MY SATURDAY NIGHT DATE with Joan went the same as the previous two but when we parked, she pushed me away.
“I’m messy down there. Know what I mean? So tonight, you have to let me play with you instead of you playing with me,” she said. I didn’t mind playing in the mess but she said the super absorbent tampons made everything dry and she didn’t want me to irritate it. Instead, I relaxed back in the seat and Joan went to work on me. We started kissing and then she worked her way down my body. She spent some time discovering that my nipples were almost as sensitive as hers. She rubbed my dick through my slacks as she tongued each of my nipples and I was sure I would come in my pants from the stimulation before she moved on.
V1 didn’t have much body hair until he was in his late forties. I tolerated the hair on my chest, though even late in life it was two clusters of hair on my man boobs and not much else. It was the belly hair that disgusted me. It was like suddenly having pubic hair growing up to my navel. I relished my V3 smooth skin above my pubes and determined to make sure it was always that way when Joan started kissing and licking me below my navel. She worked the button and zipper of my slacks and then got me to lift my butt so she could slide them down.
With my shirt wide open and my slacks around my ankles with Joan still fully dressed, I had a feeling of vulnerability that was new to me in either life. Oh, V1’s dominatrix Desiree Whitcomb had certainly ordered him about and eventually started to verbally abuse him. But he was always being ordered around to please her. Tonight, Joan was ordering me around to please me. I felt like what I’d done to her last week was now being reversed and it made me a little uncomfortable. Was that what she was feeling when I stripped off her panties and started licking her pussy? I needed to think about that a little more. Later. Right now, all I could think about was Joan lifting my balls and examining my cock.
“You know, I’ve given a couple of guys blowjobs and fucked one, but I’ve never really had a chance to just look at a guy’s cock. It’s so weird,” she said. She smeared the precome leaking from the tip around with her fingers. I was straining to get relief by now and she was just letting it build. “You don’t have to tell me you’re going to come or anything. I like surprises and it won’t make a difference about what I do. If you’re in my mouth when you come, then I get come in my mouth. If you’re between my tits when you come, then I’ll get it on my chin. You know. Wherever.” Between her tits? Shit!
Joan had worn a pullover blouse and stripped it off, her bra quickly following. She let me pet her bare boobs, but not play with her sensitive nipples. She dropped down on my cock with her mouth, not coming near to taking all of me, but drenching me in saliva. She clasped her breasts, pushing the cleavage together and fed my cock up between them. Holy crap!
“I’ve never done this before but I thought it looked cool when I saw a picture. I’m sure it would be better between Desi’s jugs, but do you like this?”
“Like it? My God, Joan. I’m not going to last like this. I was almost there when you pulled my slacks down.”
“Go ahead. After last week, Mom supplied the back seat with towels so we could clean up. Go ahead and come. Let me feel what it’s like between my breasts.”
It didn’t take but a few more strokes to grant her wish. It sprayed up between her breasts and all over her throat and chin. And she kept stroking while I came, getting come down between her breasts and making them even slipperier. I was weak and panting when I finally stopped surging.
“That was intense,” Joan said.
“No kidding. Thank you, lover.”
“I’m not done yet.” She grabbed a towel and wiped up her front and the bit that clung to my cock and balls. My erection had flagged a bit after that massive come but was soon revived when she took me in her mouth. Maybe she’d never given a titty-fuck before, but she’d had experience with blowjobs, that was for sure! I figured it would take a while since I’d just come, but Joan had me flooding her mouth in just a few minutes.
This time, cleanup was brief and she helped me get my trousers pulled up and then strapped herself back into her bra as I buttoned my shirt.
“Maybe we can do each other next week,” she whispered as I kissed her. “We could even be naked.”
“That might be too big a temptation to resist a week before prom,” I said. “You know, I’m seriously getting attached to you.”
“Am I that much different than Rachel?”
“It’s different, yeah. But I wouldn’t mark either one as better or worse.”
“Maybe we should get together some night and compare techniques. Both of us sort of learn something. Besides, now that I’ve discovered what getting eaten feels like, I’m kind of anxious to try it on someone else.”
My mind was filled with visions of Joan going down on Rachel and by the time I’d kissed her goodnight and gotten to bed, I had to beat off again.
Ms. Levy stopped me after class on Wednesday and asked if I could see her after school on Thursday. She’d read my story. I readily agreed. Em agreed to work out after school that day so she could take me home after the meeting.
I walked into my English classroom with an embarrassed grin on my face. Damn, she looked good today. Her blonde hair had been pulled back with a headband during class, but she had removed it after school so the hair fell in curls down below her shoulders. She wore a pale blue business shirt with a white collar and cuffs and a skirt that was tight enough to show her shape and fell below her knees. Ms. Levy didn’t try to dress sexy. She was very professional when she looked at me over the top of her black-rimmed glasses. She just couldn’t help being sexy. I knew from the locker rooms that she played a leading role in more than one teen fantasy. I’d kind of modeled my lead female character after her without being too obvious about it. I hoped.
“I’ve read your story,” she said, setting aside a stack of essays she was grading and picking up the folder with my short story, ‘Athena I’. I waited expectantly. I had a million questions. Did she like it? Were the characters well developed? Did I get the extra point for my grade? “It’s a good first effort,” she said. First effort? Shit! That could only mean it needs a second effort. “Now please don’t consider criticism to be negative when it is intended to help you make this better. I’m not going to use words like ‘I like it’ or ‘I don’t like it’. That’s irrelevant to our discussion. My personal tastes are not at issue. I’ll try to keep this as objective as I can within the realm of language and literature. Good enough?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said. I was already a bit dejected. I’d put my heart into this story. Toughen up, old man.
“Okay. Let’s start with the story arc. I think you could begin with something more dramatic that draws the reader into the story more rapidly. It’s the third page before we have a clue that they are boarding a spaceship. Lead with it. Even a simple a sentence of thought from the main character that said, ‘I took one last look at the earth before I boarded for my journey to the stars.’ Something that immediately sets the scene. Then you can deal with the weight of his baggage, the nods to people he knew and worked with, and the scurry of preparing his room and meeting his neighbors. The way it reads at the moment, he might be arriving on campus for his second year of college. Once you got past the slightly awkward opening, though, the story arc took shape in a well-defined progression of events that made life on the spaceship reasonable and believable if the reader is capable of believing science fiction at all. Some readers aren’t, you know.”
“I’ve met a few,” I nodded.
“Now the character arc is a bit uneven. First of all, while I have a pretty good idea of what is going on in Pilot’s head and what kind of person he is, I still have no idea what he looks like. That could be fine because the reader can put himself into the picture as the first person narration encourages—unless the reader is female. She might have more difficulty envisioning herself as this man and want a few clues about what he’s like physically. Otherwise, it is ‘plug in random movie star here.’ This is especially true because you spend a great deal of time describing other characters. Oddly, though, we don’t get as much depth of character development with anyone except Pilot/Poet and Logistics/Research. The result is that other characters are rather cartoonish or feel like cardboard cutouts that the main characters just have to walk around. They have no personality. The depth you put into the main characters, however, shows that you can get inside the heads of these people and bring them to life.”
“I see. What about the names? I’ve been concerned about that.”
“Any kind of strangeness in a character’s name can cause the reader to stumble. When you break the convention entirely and do away with personal names in favor of position titles, it can be a real problem to keep track of who is who. It’s the way we are wired. It is much easier to keep track of Tom and John than it is to keep track of Pilot21 and Pilot33. I’m constantly trying to remember which is which. I think it was a good exercise, but an editor in a publishing company would insist on a change. I’m certain of that.”
“I can work on that.”
“Grammar and spelling are very good. Sentence structure shows a level of sophistication I would not expect from a young writer. That is very well done. You’ve shown a grasp of English language that is advanced for your age-group.”
“Thank you.”
“Now, the hard part,” she said. I cringed. “I’m giving you the half point increase in your grade because you’ve created a well-structured story as I’ve indicated. But it is not publishable. There are several reasons. We’ve talked a little about things like character naming and getting into the story more quickly, but the elephant in the room is sex. I’m not a prude, Jacob. Reading stories with sex in them is stimulating and a natural part of life. But genre fiction is subject to its own reader-imposed characteristics. Your story would get classified as erotica instead of science fiction. So the sci-fi publishers wouldn’t touch it. The established erotica publishers would consider it too heavily male-centric and not romantic enough. And Jacob—I can only put this one way—the sex scenes are really bad. They are teenage boy fantasies that don’t touch on the reality of lovemaking. At the risk of sounding condescending, you need more experience before you write this.”
“I’ve got…” I broke off what I was about to say and blushed. Ms. Levy noted it and smiled making me blush more.
“If you want to write sex stories, that’s fine. I’ll still work with you on improving them. But the market for that is very different than the market for science fiction. And really, you need to find a language of sex that speaks to readers. ‘Orbs?’ What’s wrong with breasts? ‘Massive girth of my invader?’ Really? And you need to get some basic anatomy lessons. A boy does not penetrate the glans of his penis into a virgin’s vagina and find the maidenhead somewhere inside. It’s right up front, if she has one. They are not that common in societies where women are allowed to be active and athletic rather than confined to sitting rooms and knitting.”
Well, hell. I’d never made love to a virgin in either life. How was I supposed to know? All the stories on SOL seemed to have the guy half the length of his dick into her cunt before he finds the hymen. The only virgin I knew was Desi and I hadn’t reached the point of looking between her legs. I was sure going to take a long look before I deflowered her, though. If that was ever going to happen in reality. The talk about female anatomy and sex descriptions with my beautiful teacher had gotten me hard as well. And she wasn’t done.
“Bra sizes are not absolute. A C-cup on a woman with a thirty-six-inch chest is not the same size as a C-cup on a woman with a thirty-two-inch chest. And part of what makes the ancillary characters two-dimensional is physical descriptions of things the narrator would have no way of knowing. He would have to work in women’s lingerie in order to make an assessment that said ‘She had a perfect thirty-six C, twenty-three, thirty-six hourglass figure.’ And then he would be mistaken in ninety percent of the cases. And physiologically, a man cannot ejaculate into a woman’s womb. An attempt to would seriously injure the woman and could even result in her death. All sexual action is between the vagina and the penis. The womb is a protected area called the uterus where babies grow.”
“Um… How did I get this old without knowing this stuff?” V1 knew that babies grew in the uterus. His wife had two babies. He’d just always assumed that womb referred to the whole area.
“Probably because you’ve received most of your sexual education from people who know no more about it than you do. Or from Ms. Garity’s Health and Wellness class, which is almost the same thing. Now, have I embarrassed you sufficiently?”
“Um… Yes?”
“You sound unsure. Let me try once more. Once you strip out the inaccuracies and cliché terms, your sex scenes show a loving and intimate relationship—one that is, frankly, stimulating. If that is what you want to write, I will still help you, critique, review, edit. What I will suggest, however, is that you separate your desire to be commercially successful as an author from your talent in writing about sex. Go so far as to create a pseudonym for your erotica author and separate what he writes from what your sci-fi persona writes. It’s not so much to conceal that you write both, but to keep straight in your own mind what you are writing. You have talent, Jacob. One day you will come back to this story, laugh at your mistakes, and rewrite it as a best-selling novel. For now, set this story aside with my notes and start creating another. Come back to this one after it has set for a while and you can look at it with fresh eyes. And more experience.”
“Thank you, Ms. Levy. I’ll have something new as soon as I can.”
“Don’t rush. You have AP exams and Finals coming up. I’ll be here teaching summer school most of the summer. Sadly, there are a number of students who need to remediate their grades. There is one thing, though.” She reached in her desk and pulled out half a dozen file folders, half red and half green. “If you choose to have me read additional stories, place your mainstream and sci-fi manuscripts in the green folders and your erotica in the red. That way, I’ll know not to open that one in class.” She grinned at me and I grew another half-inch.
Rachel and I went out Friday night and instead of just finding someplace we could make love, we went to the student musical performance. They did a Sondheim musical called Into the Woods. When your high school has some three thousand students, I guess you can find some pretty decent voices among them. I was pleasantly surprised that the production wasn’t terrible, even if the sets were amateurish and looked more like a child’s popup book than a theater setting.
Nonetheless, Rachel and I laughed and cried and held hands and had a great evening. I guess we were settling into a stage of our relationship where we were enjoying each other’s company, even when we weren’t rushing somewhere to make love. After the show, we went to Red Robin and split a burger and fries with a chocolate shake.
“Are you all set for the AP exam?” she asked.
“Beca and I are meeting with Brittany and Kent to review things Monday and Tuesday after school, but I think we’re going to do okay. That reminds me, though. Thursday is summer school registration. I’m going to take Driver’s Ed.”
“Oh, my! You’ll be able to pick me up for a date sometimes!”
“Yeah. I hope. But I don’t get a license until I’m sixteen and that isn’t until October.”
“That’s okay.” She took my hand and looked into my eyes. I just got lost there. “I plan to still be dating you in October,” she said. “I can wait for your license to drive.” I kissed her, trying not to make a spectacle in Red Robin. But damn! When we’d caught our breath again and started nibbling on fries, I broached another subject.
“What are you planning to do this summer?” I asked.
“Hmm. Hadn’t thought much beyond sunbathing naked in my back yard and watching for drones to fly over.”
“Oi! Shit! I need to get a bigger memory card for the camera and see if they have longer-lasting batteries.” We giggled a bit but my head was filled with the image of Rachel lying out in the sun while I took pictures of her remotely.
“I don’t know. I’d kind of like to get a job, but I don’t think I have enough patience with people to wait tables. I might get a babysitting gig.”
“I think I’m going to summer school.”
“You said Driver’s Ed.”
“Yes, but when I looked at the catalog to get registration information, I saw they offer Algebra II during the summer. I’m sure it’s mostly for people who failed it and have to retake, but if I take it during the summer, I could bump up the math credits another year. I’d really like to focus all my senior year on English and writing.”
“But then we wouldn’t be in math together. I like studying with you.”
“I’ll still help with studying. But they offer the whole two semesters of curriculum in eight weeks. It seems like too good a deal to pass up.”
“Hmph!” she said, crossing her arms. “I guess that just means that I’m going to have to sign up for summer school, too. No sense lying naked in my back yard if there’s no one to operate a drone nearby.”
“Really?” I said. “I mean, I’d love to do the class with you. We could spend the summer together. It would be so cool.”
“I love you, Jacob. I know I’m not supposed to say things like that at just sixteen years old, but I really do love you. I don’t think it’s an ideal way to spend a summer, but it might be the very best opportunity we have to spend time together. Let’s do it.”
On the way home, we parked and did.
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