Mural
Nine
ONCE I STARTED, it didn’t take me long to list my top three reasons to hate college. I hated the boring classes where I had to sit without thinking for hours. I hated having so much pointless homework. And I surprised myself when I finally said, “I’m lonely. I have a lover. Two. But I don’t have any friends.”
When we were done, the water was tepid and Lissa stood and offered me her hand as we got out of the Jacuzzi. I watched the water drip off her body and was drawn to the course it took off the ends of her hard nipples and the flow between her breasts that ran straight down her stomach and into her bare slit. When she reached to hand me a towel she noticed that I’d started to get hard. She grinned.
She gave my cock a little tweak and said, “We need some dinner and you need to get started on your homework.” We toweled off and Lissa put on a robe while I pulled my sweats on.
I sat on a stool at the breakfast bar and opened my computer to start writing. Lissa started moving around the kitchen and I thought how motherly she seemed at the moment. I could imagine her making dinner while her two boys sat at the counter coloring. I realized how truly sweet a woman she was.
“Where are your kids?” I asked.
“Jack and I have shared custody. He’s offered to keep them more of the time while I’m training.”
“You still get along well with your ex?”
“We’re good friends. He’s a great father to the boys. He realized before I did that I jumped into marriage and a family before I was ready. He’s been very supportive. I had savings from modeling and I ended up with this house clear and free. It’s a little easier raising children when there are two parents involved. Now work on your paper. I’m not going to talk while I’m making dinner.”
Dinner was great. She cooked pork chops with braised red cabbage and fennel. Until my few dates with Melody and time at Lissa’s house the past couple of weeks, I’d eaten about every meal since September in the college cafeteria. This was absolutely nothing like it. She served me half a glass of cold chardonnay to have with the meal, but told me I couldn’t have any more until I’d finished my presentation.
That was another surprise. Aside from glancing up to see Lissa’s graceful form beneath the robe moving about the kitchen, I felt less distracted from getting my work done than anywhere at school. I knew most of the material, though I had to look up which grades of cotton duck were no longer in use before I figured out why there were only nine instead of thirteen. Lissa had given me the password for her WiFi and it was actually faster than what I had at school.
Each student was assigned an artists’ material. We would give a presentation with a handout for the class. Doc Henredon says we each learn something well and share our knowledge with the rest of the class. I figure it keeps him from having to print handouts himself. And to think that for this class I paid a $100 materials fee.
I finished about eight o’clock. I gave the presentation to Lissa and she just said, “I had no idea!” Then she started to hand me another glass of wine. She held it just out of reach. “Any other assignments due tomorrow or Friday?” When I shook my head she handed me the glass. We sat companionably on the sofa for a few minutes. I glanced over at her and noticed she had allowed her robe to come loose. She wasn’t technically exposing much, but the fact that I could see the curve of her breast through the gap and a long bit of thigh below the belt caused a stirring in my groin. Damn, she was beautiful. I reached toward her.
She let me put my arm around her and leaned against me.
“Do I have your attention now?” she asked. “Can we talk without an explosion?” I was suitably chagrined. I knew that I had to make this right with Lissa.
“I’m sorry for acting like an ass this afternoon, Lissa. I really fucked things up, didn’t I? I hope that at least you’ll forgive me even if they withdraw my scholarship offer.”
“Well, they might have withdrawn the offer if they hadn’t been forewarned about the possibility.”
“Who warned them?”
“Who do you think went to the college and asked to authorize you to play?”
“My god, Lissa! Did you…? Oh god, I’m sorry. I just was so… No. I won’t go there. There’s no excuse. I’m such an idiot. I’m so sorry. Shit!”
“That’s a good start. Now come here and I’ll show you the next step.” She pulled my head toward her and softly kissed me. When she started, her lips were barely touching mine and we just brushed back and forth. As we kissed, she allowed a little more pressure, but her lips, though soft, did not part. It didn’t grow into a passionate kiss, but I felt more love in that minute that our lips were together than I could ever remember feeling from just a kiss. She pulled back and smiled at me. She turned her head and released the pressure on the back of my neck while continuing to pet my hair and leaned against me.
“You listed three things you hate about your college experience and three things you love. Most people would say that’s a good balance if it weren’t for the items on the list. The things you love are all reasonable. Who wouldn’t love sex? Painting is the thing that is nearest and dearest to you. And one of the best defenses against depression is exercise. In fact, it’s why I took up racquetball.”
“What?”
“After my divorce three years ago, I was a depressed single mom with nowhere to turn. My therapist suggested I take up jogging. One week and I said, ‘fuck this.’ I wanted to beat something. Tennis is too slow. I chose racquetball. In three years I was a national champion. But I can’t tell you how many hours I spent on that court. A lot more than you do now,” she said.
“Wow! I had no idea. You seem so… together.”
“I’m better. But sex, painting, and racquetball aren’t enough to combat boredom, stress, and loneliness. We have to see what we can do about that. First, you say the classes are boring. Well, that might be out of our reach for this semester. We can’t go around replacing all your classes and instructors. From my experience, having one class you love out of five isn’t a bad ratio. I remember one semester where I couldn’t stand a single one of my classes.”
“What did you do?”
“I withdrew before the first ten days of the quarter deadline, pled a family emergency, and reenrolled in the fall.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Yeah. I didn’t have any scholarships and wasn’t on a professional program like yours. Let’s table that one and move to number two. Too much pointless homework equals lots of stress. How much time do you spend on the class you just worked on? It took you about two hours to do that project and you don’t have anything else due this week.”
“Yeah, but I’m on call for that stupid mural project all weekend and I have an Art History paper due on Monday, plus midterms. I won’t have a chance to work on it or study till Sunday night.”
“Except you could work on it tonight and tomorrow night.”
“I suppose. But that means… I… we… ummmm.”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. After I finish playing mother hen and counselor for a while, I’ve got a game of lover in mind. Just be patient. There are some things I want as much as you do.” She emphasized her point by returning to our kiss. We just savored each other’s lips for about five minutes. My wee little pecker was beginning to stretch his muscle… or whatever it’s called. “This can be very relaxing, you know?”
“Yeah. I want to make love to you, but I feel like I don’t want to move. I could just spend the night holding you like this.”
“Do you have a Daytimer?” Well, enough of that little fantasy.
“I keep my schedule on my cell phone.”
“How often do you look at it?”
“Whenever I need to write something down.”
She laughed. It wasn’t just a little snort, it was an all-out belly laugh. I didn’t think it was that funny.
“Did you hear that? You only look at your reminders when you set them up. You don’t look at them to remind you. What good are they?”
“There’s an alarm that goes off when something is due.”
“Then it’s too late to do it. You need to be working on these projects days in advance, not when the alarm says it’s due.”
“Like not waiting till Sunday night to do my Art History paper. I should know this. I’m in college. I had to do it all the way through high school. There’s just no one to…” I stopped and realized what I was saying. I’d come from a close family that held education as the number one priority—before dates, before parties, before racquetball. My dad is a teacher and Mom is just a mom. Not like that isn’t enough. Anytime I headed out the door, either Mom or Dad asked if I had my schoolwork done for the week. Not for tomorrow. For the week. I was still waiting for Mom to remind me to do my homework. What a helpless baby I was!
“I’m not going to remind you to do your homework,” Lissa said as if reading my mind. “I have two little boys of my own to ride herd on. I don’t need a third. But I will help you put together a system where you can see, at a glance, what work you have for the next week or two and then look at it several times a day. Tony, get it off your phone and onto paper. I know that sounds like I’m a Luddite, but you are a visual thinker. If you don’t see it in front of you, you don’t think about it.”
“You’re right. It just seems like one more task to do.”
“Do it and the others will seem less daunting.” She waited for me to respond and finally I nodded.
“Now, the third problem. Tony, don’t you have any friends?”
“Um… not really. We see each other in class. We talk in the lunchroom. But until Melody and I came here for that weekend, we’d only spoken to each other at lunch on Fridays. Everybody is so swamped with their classes they don’t have time to hang out.”
“Ever stop to think that they might have the same problem? Everybody needs friends. You sometimes have to start things yourself, though.”
“It’s hard. I don’t like to talk about what’s going on inside me. I have to see those people every day. I don’t want them looking at me and thinking, ‘There’s the kid who misses his mommy’, or something.”
“Do you miss your mommy?”
“Well, sure. I don’t mope around for her, but of course I miss her. And Dad. I miss my best friend Beth who lived a couple houses down from me. And Miss Stone, my high school art teacher. Geez, we’d sit in her classroom after school sometimes and talk about art for an hour. And…”
“Tony. You’re homesick.” I hung my head. “It’s okay. How wonderful that you have family and friends that you miss. You thought you’d replace them all here, and you haven’t. In fact, you can’t. But there are people here who want to be friends.”
“Like?”
“Me.” She looked at me and pulled me in for another kiss. This one got quite a lot hotter. When we broke for air, my hand was inside her robe stroking her incredible breast. “Friends with benefits.” If a smile can be loving and naughty at the same time, Lissa’s came close.
I’d never been alone with Lissa—I mean to make love. In our threesome, she had acted as either the tutor or as the object of our assault. The softness of her kisses was a direct indicator of how she liked to make love. I was half expecting that she’d go wild with just the two of us, but she wanted to go slow and loved soft feathery touches. In spite of the fact that we were both pretty much naked, we made out like high schoolers for an hour before we really got serious. Every step was taken slowly and savored. I think I spent ten minutes just tracing that vein in her neck that caused the extra shadow I’d seen while sketching her. I did it first with my fingers, then with my lips, and finally with my tongue.
I knew for a fact how tough Lissa was. She had muscles where I wished I had muscles. But she loved being treated as if she was fragile and I touched her with the delicacy I would use when handling a blown glass butterfly. And she treated me the same way. It was a new experience. I discovered nerve connections between my shoulders and my eyes, my butt and my feet. Little touches in one place would cause my sensors to fire off in a completely different part of my body.
I’m sure Lissa was instructing me on how to make love to her, but she did it without ever saying a word. She touched me and I felt the sensation and then I repeated the touch on her and she moaned. When we coupled, we were facing each other on our sides in almost the exact same position we’d been in while pleasuring Melody over the weekend. Our heads were on the same pillow as we kissed.
I felt my cock—I’d been hard for an hour or more—sliding against her mound. She shifted slightly and instead of being over her stomach I was between her legs. We moved together and her juices joined mine, making her labia and my cock more and more slippery. She reached between us and guided me into her folds. I sank slowly inside and was totally consumed by her beauty.
The position isn’t designed for maximum penetration. It’s difficult to get very deep but I discovered it provides a lot of stimulation to the clitoris. Lissa glided down the length of my cock with her button rubbing down and back up.
I was shaking and saw that even that was mirrored in my lover. Every stroke caused a new vibration through our entire bodies.
I was so in awe of Lissa that I didn’t think of my own satisfaction at all. How could I not be satisfied? I just wanted her to be pleased. I wanted so desperately to feel her clamp down on me as she came. And like the feathery touches of our foreplay, we drew this out until neither of us could bear the tension. We clutched each other tightly and our mouths came together in a melding of tongues and lips. I felt her moan more than heard it and my own growl vibrated through her teeth and jaws. Neither of us could deny that we were coming, but the orgasm wasn’t centered between our legs. It came from so deep inside both of us that I thought it would rip my lungs and heart out of my chest. I was buried in my friend, my mentor, my coach, my model. But as much as I was in her, she was in me—wrapped in my arms, held in my mouth, and firmly embedded in my heart.
We woke in the morning in the exact same position, and while a little more hurried, the blending of our spirits was just as profound. I barely made it to Fundamentals class on time.
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