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Sometime Sweet Sheila

By: KenNicottii



[Many thanks to my volunteer editor, LadyVer, whose considerable investment of time made this a much better story.] 

* * * 

Most people reading this story only know a world where limitless amounts of erotica and pornography are merely a mouse click away, and most of it for free. The concept of going on a date to see a skin flick in a theater doesn't even exist today. 

In the late 1960s, movies were still fairly conservative although scenes with nudity and simulated sex began appearing in films other than foreign art house releases. My story takes place during what is now seen as a transition period: roughly between the Best Picture Oscar being awarded to the then X-rated mainstream film Midnight Cowboy in 1970 and the release of Deep Throat and other porno chic titles in 1972. 

It's the story of how I found myself on a first date with Sheila, a woman I barely knew, watching a film with non-simulated sex acts. Real sex, between a man and a woman, up there on the screen. 

Fans of the movie Taxi Driver would jump in here and say everyone knows what happened when Travis Bickle (Robert De Niro) tried to take Betsy (Cybill Shepherd) to a Times Square porno movie on their first date. She abruptly stomps out of the theater as soon as she sees the lewd images on the screen. But keep in mind, Taxi Driver wasn't released until more than five years after the time of my story. I just didn't know any better. 

I've called my story "Sometime Sweet Sheila" as an homage to one of the movies that Travis and Betsy never got to see: Sometime Sweet Susan. (The one they saw about ten seconds of was Swedish Marriage Manual.) 

* * * 

It was the third time I'd hung up the phone before dialing the last number. What a coward I was. I'd never been comfortable calling a woman for a date. Even ones I had already gone out with before. The fear of rejection was overpowering. 

At that point in my life, I had phoned quite a few women socially; so it should have been easy. Only a few disappointments over the years: several rejections, a few broken dates—nothing too damaging to my psyche. It still gave me intense anxiety, though. 

Sheila Clarke. I stared at the little scrap of paper she had given me two days ago in City Park. Was this actually her phone number? That trick had been pulled on me before. 

I appreciated what an easy time I'd had during the years I was in college. Women were everywhere—easy to meet, easy to find shared interests. Asking them out face to face wasn't a problem since it was usually someone I already knew from a class or a school activity. Or I had friends in common that eased the way. 

That privilege had expired. 

I was surprised at how quickly I felt like an outsider on campus after I picked up my diploma. Almost like an inmate hanging around the prison after his sentence was up. I had little experience trying to meet women out in the real world, except for my many fruitless attempts at City Park. 

I had regularly visited the park with my buddies while we were at school. We'd wander around, trying to chat up groups of women we didn't know. Offer them some weed to smoke or try to invite them back to our place. For all the times we went there, nothing much ever came from it in the way of long-term relationships; but it was fun anyway. 

This was the first time I'd gotten a woman's phone number from any of those visits. I was shy and risk averse, and normally I would never have had the nerve to ask out someone like Sheila. 

Here's what happened that day. 

* * * 

There were five of us who walked up to where Sheila and her three friends were sitting. The pretty boy of our group, Steven, wasn't with us that day. He had gone to the lake with a gal he'd met recently, so it felt odd not to be in his shadow. Sheila was more attractive than the women I usually felt comfortable pursuing. Steven would have made a beeline for her had he been there, so the rest of us were unsure of how to handle ourselves without his grabbing the cutest one by default. 

We were invited to join them, but none of us chose to sit next to Sheila. Her body language seemed uneasy when her friends asked us to sit down, and no one was bold enough to come onto her right away. That was Steven's job. 

The other three were easygoing and talkative. It wasn't long before we were all laughing and acting silly. Except for Sheila. She'd occasionally join in the conversation, but she seemed timid and unsure of herself. I'm always on the lookout for interesting, tell-tale signs when I meet new people. She intrigued me. 

Sheila was attractive; but her friends were less so, which stood out. Women usually keep a tight range of prettiness among a group of friends. I had my eye on one or two of the other ones that were more typical of the kind I usually dated. But I couldn't figure out where Sheila fit in with that bunch. 

I made some superficial observations about her friends. Tina had big boobs that her bra was struggling to contain behind her tank top. Linda was braless under a peasant blouse with a loose front that gave anyone a full view, nipples and all, each time she leaned over—which was often. Pam had on the least amount of clothing: a tiny leather halter top, that looked like it was half of a bikini swimsuit, and very short cut-offs. 

A gauzy, colorful skirt revealed Sheila's shapely long legs, but her demure blouse looked like something my mother would wear. She was definitely a tall woman. I wondered if she had played volleyball or basketball in school. She had nice muscle tone, but she didn't seem all that comfortable in her own body. Her toenails were painted a soft shade of lavender, and a pair of Dr. Scholl's sandals were sitting off to the side. Sheila's large blue eyes peered out from the mane of blonde hair that swept past her brow on one side. 

We broke out the jug wine hidden in a knapsack and filled Dixie cups for everyone. A joint made its way around the circle. Things got a lot friendlier and funnier after a few tokes and the second jug of wine was opened. 

A sudden, uncharacteristic burst of bravado came over me. I got up and moved next to Sheila. Since Steven wasn't around, I figured why not me? 

I used the old salesman's trick of asking questions and trying to get her to talk about herself. It was hard to keep the conversation going. 

Sheila had just finished her freshman year at a cross-town college. Like most students her age, she didn't know what she wanted to major in. She seemed reticent and shy, but I tried drawing her into the main conversation. I wondered if she was one of those attractive women that somehow thought otherwise when they looked in a mirror. Or maybe one that didn't get asked out that much because guys were afraid to approach her. 

Once the pot and wine had loosened everyone up, the group got rowdier. Tina and Pam initiated a version of the Twenty Questions game that seemed likely to make each player the butt of ridicule by everyone else. A team would come up with the most embarrassing thing about one of their players that he or she wouldn't want the other side to know. It was the men against the women. 

Since there were more guys than gals, our group started the game. I drew the short straw, so the other four guys came up with a fact I never would have revealed voluntarily. It shouldn't have been a surprise that they picked something sexual. Linda actually figured it out. I was the last one to lose my virginity. In a way, some of the questions were more embarrassing than the actual secret. I was a pretty good sport about it—after all, it got them talking about my sex life. 

As the victim, I got to pick the next person who was "it"; I chose Tina. I wanted to learn more about Sheila, but she hadn't been an active participant in the first round. I wondered if she dreaded what we were going to find out about her. 

Tina's secret turned out to be the time she was at a backyard party, and an unexpected rainstorm caused her white shorts to leave little to the imagination about the abundance of dark hair between her legs. I'm sure it must have been traumatic at the time, but she seemed to revel in a bunch of new guys hearing about it. 

Inevitably, we got around to Sheila. We were getting warm as we used up our guesses. It had something to do with topless sunbathing. I thought for sure it involved some unwanted creep getting an eyeful, but it wasn't that. Even though we never got it right, Pam blurted out the secret anyway: Sheila is the only one who comes back from the topless beach with tan lines. 

Roars of laughter all around—except from Sheila. She seemed genuinely mortified. Actually, some of the wrong guesses earlier had produced a fair amount of discomfort on her part, too. Sheila blushed profusely and lowered her head. I could see where joking about being on the itty bitty titty committee might be fair game among a group of female friends. But to highlight that in front of five guys she just met? It seemed wrong. 

The laughter trailed off. Linda pointed to Mickey, the last guy in the game, and ordered us to start working on a juicy secret. I turned to see Sheila gazing up at the sky, blinking back a tear, and trying to take deep breaths. I leaned over and squeezed her hand. She looked at me with gratitude. I spoke as softly as I could. 

"They should have picked a different secret. That wasn't right." 

Her blue eyes thanked me silently. They seemed even bigger than before. 

The last round of the game quickly lurched off into another direction when the women found out that Mickey had dated his stepsister. I knew it wasn't technically his stepsister. His mother had been divorced before she met Mickey's dad. It was the daughter of this ex-husband's second wife—no actual blood relation. A lively debate ensued nonetheless: when is close too close? 

I was still holding Sheila's hand when I told her I wanted to see her again. "Maybe we could go see a movie?" 

She smiled. "I'd like that. Here, I'll write down my number." 

"I can find out what's opening next weekend and give you a call. Are you free on Friday?" 

"Sure. Here's my phone and address." 

I took the slip of paper and recited her full name. I extended my hand. "Hayward. James Hayward. Very pleased to meet you, Ms. Clarke." 

The wine and pot had both run out. The parlor game had reached its conclusion. The guys all got ready to leave. I didn't see any other numbers exchanged; perhaps I missed it while talking to Sheila. Before getting up, I placed a gentle kiss on the back of her hand. "I'm looking forward to Friday, madam." 

Sheila laughed at the anachronistic but chivalrous gesture. "And I as well, Mr. Hayward." 

I figured some Jane Austen era manners never hurt, even in jest. We bid the group farewell and headed home. I put the slip of paper in a safe place. 

* * * 

I need to come clean on something. 

Yes, I was nervous about calling Sheila for a date, but what really caused me to hang up three times already was something else. 

In addition to the usual mainstream Hollywood movies we could go see, I was thinking about asking her to see a dirty movie. Not some harmless, bare boobs, nudie-cutie Russ Meyer film. And not some moody, foreign language film with subtitles and brief, simulated sex scenes between marginally attractive people. No, this was a precedent-shattering underground movie that was rumored to show couples having actual unclothed sexual intercourse. And lots of other things as well. 

What possessed me to consider asking a woman whom I hardly knew to see a film like that? And someone who wasn't that easy to talk to and whose personality was enigmatic and difficult to read. And how did I know about this very hush-hush cinematic offering anyway? 

Let me explain. 

All of our group were eager consumers of any movie that had sex in it. Our college town was large enough to have an art house cinema that played all the major foreign films. A watershed film of that era was Blowup by Michelangelo Antonioni. It featured simulated intercourse, a female character baring her breasts to seduce the male lead, and a raucous nude romp between the male lead and two young women, shocking the audience with a brief display of full frontal nudity (female, of course). 

At the opposite end of the spectrum of acceptability were the sexploitation films shown in seedy theaters or drive-ins. Some were fairly innocent movies that featured topless women in comedic sexual situations. And there were the sleazier ones that had lurid content like women in prison, biker gangs, horror, and revenge crime—and lots of violence along with the sex. 

Since the late 1960s were an era of experimentation and anything goes, we saw films of every type. A lot of the time girlfriends or dates came right along, too. It wasn't that unusual. One of the more popular naughty movies of that era was The Stewardesses: 3-D. Yes, an X-rated 3-D movie years after the original 3-D craze had died down. However, it was still simulated sex. 

It was a phone call from an old friend, Barry, who rang me the day before my visit to City Park. Barry was a buddy of mine from high school whom I still kept in touch with. He had interned for the film critic at the Evening Bulletin newspaper while an undergraduate at Temple University. Now he was a cub reporter in the arts and leisure section. He had some important news he'd heard from his boss. 

"James, you and your college buddies are the only ones I can talk to about this. Remember last year when we made that road trip up to New York to see I Am Curious (Yellow)?" 

"How could I possibly forget that? And Inga, too." 

"Oh, yes. Marie Liljedahl in Inga! That's kind of why I'm calling. There are two new movies opening in your town next weekend. My boss says they both show actual sex: a man and a woman fucking—naked! And blow jobs, everything." 

"No way! I thought that was against the law." 

"There's a loophole now. As long as the film can be considered educational, you can show a lot more than you could before. They call them marriage manual films. They show people how to fuck, different positions, oral—" 

"How can this be possible?" 

"Some court ruling in a trial where they were trying to prove I Am Curious (Yellow) was obscene. It opened up an opportunity for harder stuff—almost like stag films. Some of the sexploitation producers jumped right on it. Have you got a pencil to write this down?" 

Barry told me the film titles. I've long since forgotten them, but my research tells me they would have come from this group of four: Man and Wife, He & She, The Marriage Manual, and 101 Acts of Love. 

"Am I going to get arrested if I try to see these movies?" 

Barry laughed. "Maybe, but see if you can go the first night in case the cops confiscate the prints. With any luck you can run out the back during the raid. They're opening here the same weekend, so we'll have to compare notes. Both films run about an hour. You and your girlfriend should be home early enough to try out some of the techniques." 

Hah, hah. If only I had a girlfriend. I knew the other guys would be interested, though. 

Then, the next day at City Park, I met Sheila. We had talked about going to the movies Friday night. The same night the marriage manual films were opening. Why not throw that choice into the mix? 

My best explanation in hindsight is I wanted to impress Sheila. Make her think I was cool and edgy. Mature and worldly—like an older guy should be. That I had insider knowledge about obscure films that people like my parents wouldn't have a clue about, much less go see. 

And my insecurity. I'd never gone out with someone like her. I wanted to distinguish myself from all the other guys that might be wooing her. Talk about clueless. 

I finally got the nerve to let the call go through. Sheila remembered me and still seemed interested in seeing a movie together. I rattled off the new ones opening that weekend. I also asked her if she had seen some of the other films that had come out recently. I knew it was important that a date be eager to see the movie, especially the first time. 

Then I casually brought up the ones Barry had told me about. There was the risk she'd be completely offended and hang up. I explained what they were and told her she needed to be 18 to get in. 

"Those ones you just mentioned sound interesting. Tell me some more about them." 

So I did. 

She asked if I wanted to see them more than the other choices. 

I did. 

She said she had recently turned 19 and had an ID to prove it. "I've never seen anything like that before," she confessed. "You think it'll be OK?" 

"It'll definitely be a new experience for everyone who goes. We'll be the first ones in town to see them. Now remember, they're supposed to be very explicit." 

It was settled. James and Sheila were going to see a dirty movie on their first date. Don't forget your IDs. 

* * * 

The films were showing at a neighborhood theater, the Regent. It was in a part of town I didn't travel through often. They used to show mostly foreign films and old black and white classics, but their newspaper ads in recent months revealed a switch to racier stuff. 

Sheila called the next day. Uh-oh, looks like we might be seeing that new John Wayne western after all. But that wasn't why she phoned. 

"James, can we do a double date on Friday? I'd feel more comfortable going to something like that with another couple. My friend Debbie wants to see those movies after I told her about them." 

"She's not one I met at the park, is she?" 

"No, she wasn't there. But I've known her a long time, and she's 19, too. Deb's seen more of that kind of thing than I have. Like that 3-D movie last year about the stewardesses. Is there one of your friends that's up for a blind date?" 

The other guys were going to wait until Saturday night to go, mainly due to scheduling conflicts. But my roommate Nick might be available, and he didn't have a girlfriend. 

"No, he wasn't at the park either. I guess this will truly be a blind date all the way around." 

"James, is this theater safe?" 

"It should be. The neighborhood isn't weird. I've never been to the Regent before, but I have been to lots of sexploitation movies around town. It's not all solo males. A fair amount of couples attend." 

"Alright, I'll tell Deb about Nick. Call me to let us know if he's down for it. She can pick me up, and we'll come over to your place." 

I wondered if that gave them a handy escape plan when we got back from the movie. I reminded her to make sure they brought their IDs. 

Nick immediately accepted the offer of the blind date with Debbie. He couldn't believe his good fortune: a woman was willing to go out with him—sight unseen—to a dirty movie. A really dirty movie, if you could believe Barry. Nick was average looking; but he was tall, muscular, and had a lot of charisma. He was jovial and friendly, an easygoing guy. I had my fingers crossed that Debbie would find him acceptable once they met. 

I'd been on a few disastrous blind dates. I always tried to act like a gentleman, to be polite and courteous when the woman wasn't to my liking. But I'd had a few where my date acted otherwise, sulking the whole night because I didn't meet her expectations. It wouldn't be a problem with Nick if Debbie was homely, or even if she shunned him. He could roll with just about anything. Since Sheila's beauty was out of place in the group I met in the park, I couldn't predict what Debbie would look like. 

* * * 

That Friday night, Nick and I were standing around in the living room of our apartment. It felt surreal. Two guys nervously awaiting the arrival of their female companions for the evening. Both of them first dates and one of them a blind date. 


Sometime Sweet Sheila



We finally heard their voices as they came up the stairs. A knock on the door. In two seconds we'd know if things were going to be comfortable or awkward for the rest of the evening. I swung open the door and greeted them warmly. 

"Sheila, Debbie, come on in. Hi, I'm James ... and this is Nick." 

I carefully watched Debbie's expression. She seemed cheerful and bubbly when she shook hands with Nick. She was better looking than Sheila's other friends. Her sundress was a little more revealing than I might have expected for a blind date. 

Nick immediately complemented her on the dress. And her shoes. Good boy, Nick. He could thank his older sisters for teaching him to notice things like that—and to speak up. Debbie seemed flattered and did a little twirl with a big smile. 

"You like it, huh? Thanks." 

I'm sure Sheila was surveying their body language as well. So far so good. We all seemed to breathe a little easier. 

I had a moment of dissonance when I decided to greet Sheila with a squeeze of the hand instead of a kiss or a hug. I didn't feel like I knew her well enough for those other gestures, yet there we were getting ready to see an unbelievably explicit sex movie together. 

Sheila had on a pair of white hip-hugger bellbottoms held up by a wide belt. Her feminine long-sleeved t-shirt was soft blue with a center column of colorful embroidery on lace cut-outs. Similar embroidered insets reached from cuff to mid-forearm on each sleeve. A scoop neck displayed her flawless skin and a multi-strand necklace with amethyst pendants. The tee's snug fit didn't conceal her boyish chest—or the lack of a bra. Good for her, not afraid to put it out there. One foxy lady, she was. I couldn't believe I was going on a date with her. 

I placed my arm around her shoulder. She was barely an inch shorter, even in her flat, strappy sandals. "Sheila, you look great. Nice top. I really like the way the lace and embroidery work together." I lifted her wrist for a closer look. "And your hair ... beautiful." My fingertips grazed her neck as I fondled a tress. 

She moved in for a hug. "Thank you, James. You look nice, too," she said, leaving a light kiss on my cheek and a subtle whiff of Yardley's Oh! De London in my personal space. 

OK, she just cleared the way for polite hugging and kissing. That's good. I felt much better going to a porno theater with her now that threshold had been crossed. 

I had asked them to come by early so we could get acquainted over drinks before we left. We mostly talked about the expected content of the films. Debbie seemed like a regular gal, friendly and fun; but I also detected a wild streak. Eventually it was time to pile into my car and head for the Regent. 

* * * 

As I drove past the theater looking for on-street parking, there were mostly young people in line to buy tickets. When we stepped up to the ticket booth, several other couples came up behind us to get in line. The women seemed to relax when they saw people like ourselves instead of a stream of furtive, middle-aged men in raincoats. 

Admission was shockingly expensive, about three times what a normal movie cost. Wouldn't that have been a laugh, not having enough money to get in? 

Everyone's IDs were checked carefully. We filed into the tiny lobby, typical of a 1920s-era theater. The place was old and needed some upgrades but was clean and didn't have any weird smells. 

The auditorium was half full with a mix of couples, typically younger, and solo males that were sitting away from the couples. I wasn't sure what I'd do if there was obvious masturbation during the show. Nick cleverly entered the row first, followed by Debbie and Sheila, and I came last. That way the gals were in the middle and didn't have to worry about some strange guy sitting next to them. And they could whisper between themselves. 

There was a healthy buzz among the patrons before the show started. While our group chatted, I tried to make subtle physical contact with Sheila: having our heads touching while we talked, my hand grazing hers, our knees together. She reciprocated, which made me feel more comfortable. Even so, I planned to keep my hands to myself after the lights went down. 

After some embarrassingly tawdry film previews, the first feature started. It had an actor playing an absent-minded professor type—dressed in a doctor's white coat—expounding on sexual matters in front of a blackboard. I guess that made it "educational." 

It didn't take long, though, for a nude couple onscreen to engage in explicit foreplay. I couldn't believe what they were showing. Each new reveal made me gasp with disbelief: a pussy fingered, a cock sucked, a woman enjoying herself on top of a man—with actual penetration. Technique after technique, position after position. Worth every penny. 

When the lights came up for intermission, you could feel the audience collectively let out a huge breath. The women were whispering and laughing. Nick and I leaned back and glanced at each other. We let Debbie go first. 

"That was something else! Wow! Everything that was promised and more." 

Knowing Sheila wasn't that talkative, I turned and asked what she thought. 

"I'd have to say it was educational," she said, smiling. "No argument there." 

Whew! I had braced myself for one or both of them asking to be taken home. Not these gals. The film had hit a sweet spot between their sexual curiosity and the lure of forbidden fruit. None of us left our seats; we had a lot of pent-up commentary to let loose. No one was humming "Let's All Go to the Lobby." No bathroom visits either. 

What we had just seen was an early example of a sex movie genre that came to be known as a "white coater." Producers latched onto the legal loophole of "educational" to show things that had only been seen in stag films. One simple way to establish their educational bona fides was having an actor appear to be a doctor, merely by donning a white lab coat. The movies followed the themes of the popular printed marriage manuals available in those days: a healthy but playful attitude toward sex, doing what nature intended between loving couples, and exploring the many possibilities of mutual sexual fulfillment. 

Eventually the lights went down for the second feature; the murmur of anticipation was intense. It was better than the first one. The goofy male doctor had been replaced by a more serious (but no less enthusiastic) female sex doctor. Her soothing voiceover washed away any silliness that may have lingered from the first film's narration. The scenes of graphic, how-to foreplay and intercourse were interweaved with romantic vignettes of the lovers on a picnic, walking in the sunshine, enjoying nature's beauty—much more of a date night film in my opinion. 

I was awash with arousal. The explicitness of the sex acts was unprecedented. Someone could have shouted "Fire!" in that theater, and I probably would have perished trying to wait until the last possible moment to leave. I felt a tap on my shoulder. 

"James, I need to use the ladies' room," Sheila whispered. "Can you come out there with me? I don't want to go alone." 

If it had been anything other than our first date, I might have berated her for not going during intermission. I couldn't believe she was forcing me to miss a chunk of the "never before seen" footage unspooling on the screen. I took her hand in mine and leaned close to her ear. 

"Sure. No problem. Let's go." 

As we pushed through the exit doors, Sheila asked me if I could watch her walk to the restroom and keep an eye on it while she went in. The theater had dog-leg hallways that angled back to the lobby. When we reached the spot where the hallway turned, the ladies' restroom was clearly visible on the other side, less than 30 feet away. 

"I'll be right here," I whispered, squeezing her hand. She smiled and headed toward the restroom. I savored the sight of her beautiful blonde hair and tight white jeans as she walked across the lobby. Apparently I wasn't the only one. I heard the low rumble of an older male voice once the restroom door swung shut behind her. 

"Hey, did you check that out?" 

A knot of alarm grabbed my gut. I carefully leaned over so I could see the concession stand in the lobby. I recognized the guy from the ticket booth. Another middle-aged employee was probably the theater manager. Their eyes were glued on the ladies' room door like two dogs watching their dinner being prepared. It gave me the creeps. 

"Yeah, I did," said the ticket booth guy. 

"That one is eighteen?" the manager said. 

"Yeah, she is." 

"Are you sure?" 

"Yes, I'm sure. I checked her ID closely. And the other girl she was with. They're both over eighteen." 

I tried telling myself that two teenage boys selling popcorn at a shopping mall multiplex would have ogled Sheila with the same fervor, but I felt a sense of dread welling up. 

I prayed I wouldn't see either or both of them go in after her. Maybe I'd watched one too many of those sleazy grindhouse movies where the worst things always happened to the hapless female characters. What if the manager went into the restroom while his assistant stood guard outside with a switchblade knife? I had to do something. I stepped out into the lobby and walked toward the ladies' room. 

"Where are you going?" barked the manager, with a menacing look that told me to stop right where I was. I realized he thought I could be some pervert trying to follow her into the restroom. 

"He's with her," the assistant explained before I could get a word out. An awkward stare-down followed. I finally found my voice. 

"She wanted me to come out here with her. To make sure no one bothered her." 

The two guys glowered at me for what seemed like an eternity until Sheila came back out. I walked over and grabbed her hand. I never asked if she had noticed the men at the concession stand or worried about them while she was in the restroom. We found our seats and settled back in while a woman up on the screen lovingly devoured her partner's stiff penis. 

The crowd was even more animated when the lights came up at the end of the second movie. There probably wasn't a soft dick or a dry pussy in the place. I wondered how many of the couples were headed home to try out some new bedroom activities. The consensus among our group was solid: unbelievably erotic, very educational, and nothing like any of us could have imagined. 

* * * 

We pulled into our apartment driveway, near where Debbie had parked. As I locked the car, I wondered if the gals would cut and run. After all, accepting an invitation to come inside could be construed as wanting to take things further. 

"You ladies want to come up for a drink?" Nick asked casually. They both agreed without any funny looks. Sheila seemed passive about it, though. 

We went right to the fridge and got out two beers for us and poured white wine for the women. Nick asked Debbie to go back to his room. She grasped his upper arm as they headed down the hall. Well, no hesitation there. I guess he had that situation read correctly. Time for me to act. 

"Why don't we do the same," I suggested. Sheila's expression was non-committal. "I meant my room, not Nick's." She smiled and said OK. I took her hand as we headed back. 

I turned on a night light, added some candles, and set the stereo on low. My arm slipped around her waist and I planted a kiss on her lips. She barely kissed back. Not exactly tearing my clothes off, was she? 

"Any other thoughts you may have about the movies?" I asked, trying to diffuse the awkwardness. 

"I liked them. I learned a lot." 

"They were truly educational, weren't they?" 

I pulled her closer. Our second kiss was a little better. Her free hand went to my shoulder. Our tongues touched lightly. 

I broke the embrace and looked at Sheila. "Let me take off my boots." 

I sat down on the bed and removed my footwear and socks. We talked some more about the movies. After setting down her wine glass, Sheila put her hand on the wall and reached down to unstrap her sandals. She sat down on the bed next to me, and we began kissing again. She was a little more into it. 

I let my mind get hung up on realizing every move or touch I was making—or could make—had been shown in the movies. It would look like I was trying to copy those techniques and had nothing original. I needed to banish that thought and move forward. Who knew what was on Sheila's mind as we sat on the edge of the bed politely making out. I did know one thing: I was ready to explode. I was so horny I wondered if it was possible to have a wet dream while I was awake. 

I had a moment of clarity. 

I knew nothing about Sheila. Was she a virgin? On birth control? It's never easy to bring up those topics. She must have been feeling some pressure to have sex at that point: either from my expectations, from her own arousal, or from the free love culture of the times—or all three. I made a tactical decision, one that fit my risk-averse nature. I started to undo some buttons on my shirt. 

"I'm going to break the ice by removing one article of clothing." But I stopped unbuttoning partway down and took her hand. 

"Sheila, we should be honest about this. We don't know each other very well. You shouldn't feel any pressure tonight to take things beyond where you're comfortable. Let's face it—we're both very aroused. For now, why don't we agree to keep our underwear on? No further than that. I think we'll have some room to play around within those limitations. I want us to enjoy being with each other. And not have to worry about the consequences of going all the way." 

"OK. That makes sense. I was feeling a little nervous about that." 

I finished unbuttoning my shirt and tossed it on the floor. I was fairly skinny in my 20s, but I wasn't self-conscious about it. No one worked out back then. 

She put her arms around me, and we kissed some more. I let my fingertips wander across her chest. 

"Ooh!" she moaned, holding me tighter. 

I began stroking her tits, although there wasn't much there but her stiffening nipples. It must be tough to be a flat-chested woman in a world where Playboy and other magazines exalted the big bosom. 

She got a bit more aroused from the breast fondling. I slipped my hands under her shirt and started to lift it up. "OK, I took my top off. Now it's your turn," I said, trying to add an element of humor. She brought her arms down to stop me and lowered her head. Uh-oh. 

"Sheila?" 

She had the same body language she did at City Park after the topless sunbathing joke. 

"I'm too embarrassed. I look like you do with my shirt off. Like a man. Actually like a little boy." 

"Sheila, look at me." I lifted her chin up. "I think you have a hint of where I stand on that. The only thing that matters is we don't look alike with our pants off." 

She had to laugh at that. 

"Well, you say you look like me with your top off, but I can't just take your word for it. I have to see with my own eyes." I tried keeping it light. 

"Here, why don't you turn your back to me? I'll lift your top up over your head, and you can cover up with your arms." 

"I won't need my arms. Not even my hands. My fingers will be enough." 

The poor woman. "Arms, hands, fingers. Whatever you need to stay modest. Now lift 'em up. Let's go." 

Sheila turned her back to me, and I started to pull off her top. She still seemed reluctant yet lifted her arms anyway. But real life being what it is, things got tangled up: the lace in her shirt, her necklace, her hair. She was helpless at that point. 

"Eek, I'm caught!" 

"Stay still. It's your necklace. Let me see if I can undo it." I tried my best to untangle everything. It was a fairly awkward position for her to be in: arms up and shirt covering her head. I could look at her bare boobs as much as I wanted. She did have tan lines. And smallish areolas with very prominent, hard nipples. 

"All right. Just one more snag to undo." 

"Hurry." 

"Sheila, don't give me a reason to start tickling you," I teased. 

"You wouldn't dare!" 

I got the last piece loose and lifted her top all the way off. "OK, you can cover up now." I turned her shirt right side out and folded it neatly. 

"This is a beautiful shirt, Sheila. I don't want to see it crumpled up on the floor. And here's your necklace." 

She looked over her shoulder at me with a weak smile. I needed to think of something to shake things up. I got an idea from her saying we looked alike. I stood up and moved over in front of the full-length mirror. 

"Sheila, come over here. Next to me." 

She rose hesitantly, forgetting to cover up at first. I crossed my arms over my chest to match her posture as she stood by my side. 

"Sheila, you're right. We do look somewhat alike. Almost the same height. I'm about fifteen pounds heavier, maybe. Same length hair. Both bare-chested. We both have on bellbottom jeans." 

She wasn't sure what was going on. I stepped behind her, moved her hair aside, and nuzzled her neck. 

"I think you look very sexy," I said, stroking her shoulders. "Nothing like a man. You're all woman." My erection was raging as I felt our bare torsos touch. "Did you play sports?" 

"Yes, some. Volleyball, of course. I was certainly tall enough but wasn't that coordinated. 

"I was more of a natural at gymnastics, but I don't have that small, compact body type. Like that Czechoslovakian woman who won all those gold medals in the last Olympics. We weigh the same, 128, but she's eight inches shorter. That tells it all right there." 

"Then you would be the perfect fashion model. Your figure fits that ideal to a tee. If you were walking through the backstage area of a runway show dressed exactly as you are now, it wouldn't cause a ripple. You'd look like you belonged." 

While I was offering my compliments, I put my arms around her, stroking her tummy and sides. I gently lifted up one of her hands and replaced it with mine; I did the same with the other one. 

"It's my turn to cover you up." I began to fondle her bare boobs. Her nipples were hard in my palms. "You like to be touched there, don't you?" 

She answered with a soft moan as her head tilted back against mine. I kissed her neck and shoulders while her fingers gently followed my caresses. 

I wanted to touch her all over. My hands drifted back down along her sides and over her tummy. She held her arms out awkwardly. A wacky idea came into my head. I moved to her side. 

"Sheila, you've got the body of a fashion model, but can you strike a pose? Like this?" 

I planted one foot in front, tilted back, and slapped my hand on my hip. A haughty sneer crossed my face. I looked like a total fool. 

She burst out laughing, momentarily uncovering herself. 

"Laugh all you want, but no modeling assignments for you until you show me you can pose." 

She tried but collapsed in laughter again. "OK, serious now," she said, composing herself. "I can do that." 

She did a perfect imitation of my pose, but she looked poised and graceful. Like a real model. Her hands weren't covering her breasts anymore. 

I kept going. "Alright, how about this?" 

I shifted to another absurd pose, and she easily showed me how a pro might do it. Still no covering up—this could actually work. I ran out of fashion model clichés and started doing poses that looked more like modern dance. Sheila copied them effortlessly and added a touch of élan that I could only envy. She took control of the process. 

"You're not doing that correctly. You need to be up on your toes." 

"What? Like this?" I asked, immediately losing my balance and nearly falling over. 

Sheila smiled at me. "You fouled. My turn to choose." 





Sometime Sweet Sheila



Sheila adopted several elegant dance poses. She obviously had taken some ballet lessons along the way she hadn't told me about. I looked like a drunken scarecrow when I tried to mimic her. She seemed to enjoy her dominance over me in a good-natured way. It had been several minutes since she last covered her boobs. 

"Let me do something easier, James. I see you're having trouble following my lead. Can you touch your toes?" 

With some effort and a lunge, I could. 

"How about this way?" She sat down on the floor, extended her legs in front, and easily grabbed her toes. 

I got down with her and tried, barely making contact. "Can you grab your heels?" 

She could. I couldn't even get close. 

"How about this?" Sheila easily lowered her elbows to the floor while still holding the soles of her feet. I was astonished she was that flexible. There was more to come. 

"Let's see how your upper body strength is. That's where men have an advantage." She rolled over into a prone position and lifted up her entire body horizontally, bearing the weight on her palms and the edge of one elbow. I could barely do a push-up. 

"Too tough? Let's try an easier one." She put her palms on the floor, intending to spread her legs wide and lift herself up. 

She couldn't quite do it. Hah! 

"Damn! Not with these pants on. Hold on a sec." 

She jumped up and had her jeans past her knees and off in a flash. Nice little white cotton undies with lace trim appeared. A minute before I had no idea how I was going to convince her to shed any more clothing, but now her pants were on the floor. She sat down, spread her legs as wide as they could go, and lifted her entire body weight on her hands. 

"There we go. Should be easy for you." 

No, it wasn't. Remember what I said before about not working out. She had strength in her shoulders and back that I'd never seen in a woman before. 

"How about a handstand split then?" she asked. 

She did a handstand and lowered both legs horizontally to turn her body into a perfect letter "T." I gave it a try but toppled over. 

"Nice effort, but don't try that on a balance beam, OK?" 

"You have my word." As long as she was showing off, why not ask for another risqué pose? "Vertical split?" 

"I think I can still do one." She hopped to her feet. 

The next thing I knew, she was standing on her left leg with her right leg perfectly upright: behind her head, toes pointed at the ceiling, left hand clasping the sole of her foot, and the other on her shin. 

"Sheila! My god, how can you do that?" Her little panties barely covered her pussy. 

She laughed. "Willpower." 

All her poses were insanely erotic. The female body in all its youth, grace, and flexibility. Her statuesque height only added to the effect. 

"OK, just one more. I don't want to make you feel too bad about not keeping up with me. Another naughty one?" she asked with a coy grin. 

Back down on the floor she went, flat on her back. She lifted her pelvis up and rolled her whole lower body back until her knees touched the floor near her shoulders. Her arms were draped over her calves, fingers touching her heels, panties tight against her upturned rump. I was stunned—it was beyond naughty. 

"Not finished yet," she bragged. She rolled her whole body forward and had her heels behind her head and touching. "Ta-dah!" 

"Sheila, I concede! Magnificent. You are the champion. I can't believe how flexible you are. I've never seen anything like that. Except on television. Well, not that last pose. That one got my attention." 

"Thanks," she said, returning back to her starting point. "I thought it would." 

We were both on the floor, breathing hard. She from exhilaration, me from exhaustion. The vibe in the room had shifted. I could tell by the look in her eyes. She seemed to have conquered the embarrassment of having her top off—and then some. 

"Sheila, I think the bed may be more comfortable than the floor." I helped her up. 

We started kissing on our way over to the bed. She seemed more relaxed and receptive than before. My hands roamed all over her almost naked body and through her hair. 

"You have the most beautiful hair. I can't keep my hands off it." It looked a bit disheveled after our workout. She must have spent some effort in getting it to look just right before our date. "Sorry, I didn't mean to mess it up." 

"Mess it up all you want." 

The look in her eyes when she said that! My erection went from hardwood to steel. And on top of that, I realized I was overdressed. "I suppose it's only fair I reveal the color of my underwear now." 

"I think you should." 

"Can you undo my belt, please?" I wanted to push her to be less passive. "Remember, we agreed that's as far as we're going with our disrobing." 

She smiled. "Right. I remember." 

"I want you to feel safe here with me." 

"I do." 

Sheila fumbled around trying to get my belt buckle undone. I wondered if she'd ever done that for a man before. After sitting down on the bed and yanking off my jeans, I motioned for her to come closer and stand in front of me. 

I pulled her toward me and began stroking her ass and hips. A soft groan encouraged me to keep going. I drew my lips across her tummy and teased her navel with the tip of my tongue. 

"Oh, James." 

I continued to kiss her torso as I moved my caresses farther up, along her back and sides. My thumbs roamed near her nipples, pressing and stroking all around her areolas. 

"That feels so good, James." 

I let my tongue tease one of her nipples. 

"Yessss! More!" 

So I gave her more: gentle sucking, rough tongue teasing, hard sucking. A tug with my lips, a soft bite. Mouth on one, fingers on the other, switching back and forth. She ran her hands through my hair as her legs became unsteady. 

"Can we lie down now? You're making my knees weak. In a good way." 

Onto the bed we went. "Are you comfortable now?" 

"Yes." 

"We'll only do things you're OK with." 

"I trust you." 

We began kissing as we lay on our sides facing each other. Sheila's response was more enthusiastic than before. Her hand wandered over my body, matching the caresses I was giving her. After several minutes of kissing and stroking, I got up on one elbow. 

"Can you roll over on your back?" 

I wanted a broader area to touch. My hand glided around her body—breasts, tummy, and hips. Over her thighs and across the front of her panties. She groaned when my fingers teased her mound. Her hands seemed unsure of where to touch me, so I placed them on her breasts. 

"Show me how you like to be touched." 

She moaned and closed her eyes, moving her hands slowly over her boobs, lightly pinching her nipples between her fingers. I resumed stroking the front of her panties and the soft skin between her thighs as I observed her self-pleasuring. 

I moved up onto my knees and bent over to fondle her hair and kiss her more deeply. My other hand cupped her entire pussy and gave it a squeeze. Her panties were very damp. I massaged that area slowly, feeling her twitch against my palm. 

I whispered in her ear, "Touch me like I'm touching you." She opened her eyes and gasped. "Go ahead. Feel how turned on I am. From being next to you like this." 

I took her hand and guided it to my boxers, which were soaked with pre-cum. I placed her fingers around my erection. "See how hard you've made me already. You know, men get wet, too. If they see a woman that drives them wild. That shows how sexy you looked in the mirror." 

She seemed tentative and not sure how to touch me, but she didn't pull her hand back. She moved it around a little. 

"That feels nice. Do you like how I'm touching you?" 

"Yes," she said softly. 

I was still unsure where her head was at. Was she shy? Scared? Uninterested? I decided to change things around. 

"Sheila, why don't you roll over and get up on all fours? I'm going to keep my underwear on, but I'm going to rub up against you." She moved into position without a word. 

"Spread your legs some more. OK, good." 

Sheila's head was hovering above the pillow, her hair a sexy mess. With my cock still covered, I pressed it against her panties. A tiny moan escaped her lips. I moved around a little, but it felt way too good. I needed to be cautious or else I'd fill my shorts with the groaning reservoir of cum that had been dammed up for hours. 

"Does that feel nice, Sheila?" 

"Mmmmm. Yes." 

I felt a little stirring underneath me as she began to move around herself. I let her set the pace. Her arousal grew steadily. 

"Oooh, James!" 

We fell into a slow, sensual rhythm. Two thin pieces of fabric keeping our animal parts from joining, per our agreement, but allowing sweet sensations to pass between us. 

"Keep doing this?" I asked. 

"Yes!" 

Less than a minute later she cried out as a spasm shook her body. She dropped to the bed, face in the pillow and a hand between her legs. 

I moved down beside her. I wasn't sure, but it seemed like she may have had an orgasm. I stroked her back and kissed her shoulder as she lay on her stomach. 

"Sheila? Are you OK?" She turned her head to look at me. 

"Did that feel good?" 

"Mmmm, yes." 

"Did you come?" 

"I'm not sure ..." She closed her eyes and reconsidered. "No, I guess not." 

I eased myself up onto one elbow and continued to caress her. She rolled over on her side and looked at me. 

"I was getting close. But it startled me. I wasn't used to it." 

"Have you had sex with a man before?" Never too late to ask, I suppose. 

"Yes." 

"With a boyfriend?" Please let it be a boyfriend. 

"Yes, my high school boyfriend." 

"How was the first time?" 

"Not that good. It hurt. He was more ready for it than I was." 

"Was it better the next time." 

"A little." 

"Did you have orgasms?" 

"No." 

"Did it keep getting better?" 

"Not really." 

"Well, you were both inexperienced." 

"That's for sure!" A long pause followed. "He broke up with me after we did it the next time. And started dating another girl at a different school. She had a reputation for being fast." 

Sheila had a sad look on her face. "It felt like I gave it up for nothing." 

"Did you date anyone else after that?" 

"The timing of the breakup was awful—right before the senior prom. I had to scramble for a new date." 

"Who'd you end up going with?" 

"I asked this geeky guy, a junior. We grew up in the same neighborhood. He'd been tutoring me in math that semester so I could pass. 

"He accepted it as a one-time situation. I didn't dump him when I got there or anything like that. We danced together—despite my towering over him. I wanted both of us to enjoy the evening. My friends didn't give me a hard time about it. They understood. They're not mean girls." 

"I don't suppose you—" 

"No," she said, laughing. "A goodnight kiss was more than he was expecting. Anything else probably would have caused a heart attack." 

"Did you find someone else that you liked well enough to sleep with?" 

"Not until later." 

"Someone from your school?" 

"A guy visiting for the summer, a cousin of one of my friends. We got drunk, and I let him do it. It turned out to be a one-night stand. He never called me again. 

"And I was always nervous about getting pregnant. Even though both of them wore a rubber each time. I know they aren't foolproof." 

Surely, she must know what an orgasm feels like from masturbation. I guess I could ask. 

"Do you get yourself off when you're alone?" 

Sheila let out a burst of embarrassed laughter and rolled over on her back. "I can't believe you just asked me that." 

"OK then, I'll go first. You can be thinking about your answer. I confess: I definitely get myself off when I'm alone. If you weren't here now, and if I had gone to those movies by myself, I'd already have made myself come at least twice. 

She finally admitted to diddling herself. "Am I actually telling you this?" she moaned, covering her face with her hands. 

"Sheila, this is a night for learning and talking and comparing. So, you know your own body well enough to make it happen by yourself?" 

"Yes ... I can. But both guys finished too quickly. And they never bothered making it nice for me. I don't know, maybe I'm not doing it right." 

She turned on her side to face me and touched my arm. "That's why I wanted to see the movies tonight. I thought it might help. The two people I went to bed with—neither of them seemed like they enjoyed it enough to keep dating me." 

"Did you learn anything useful from the movies?" 

"Oh, yes! More than I could imagine! Too much. I don't know how I'm going to be able to figure it all out." 

"You don't have to do everything at once, you know. I think it's commendable that you wanted to learn. It took some courage to go to those movies. And with someone you didn't know that well. But you seized the opportunity to seek out that knowledge. To make it more enjoyable when you're with a man." 

I had an uncontrollable urge to go down on her at that point. It could freak her out at first since I was almost certain she'd never been pleasured that way. But I was betting she'd quickly get over that. After all, the movies showed some very convincing scenes of cunnilingus and the women who enjoy it. 

"I'd like to make it nice for you, Sheila. Tonight. You deserve that. All women do. It shouldn't be a one-way thing where only the man has a good time. Would you like for me to make it nice?" 

She smiled. "Yes, please do!" 

"Let me do something for you that you can't do for yourself." 

She seemed puzzled. "Like what?" 

"Here, sit up. And I'll lie back down. OK, now crawl on top of me. Yes, straddle me. No, you're not too heavy. Up on your knees a little. Move up closer to me." 

She seemed unsure about how things were going to work or what exactly was going to happen. I caressed her hips. 

"I going to make it very nice for you, Sheila." 

I slipped my hands between her thighs and rubbed both thumbs against her panties. 

"Ooh! That's a good start." 

I crooked my finger past one leg of her panties so I could pull them aside and touch her pussy with my other hand. As soon as my fingertips grazed her labia, she began whimpering. Oh, was she slick and wet! I teased her lips until I thought she was ready for more. 

"Move a little closer to me." 

She inched forward and groaned when my finger went up inside her. Her nectar oozed out onto my hand. I dipped into her several times to get that "almost orgasm" warmed up again. Sheila was grabbing and kneading her breasts roughly. 

I pulled my finger out and spread the wetness over her labia and clit. Her head went back as she stifled a scream. Time to announce my intentions. 

"I want to kiss you. Where my finger is right now." 

"No! ... I'm ... I've never done that. I'm not sure I ..." Her hands fidgeted. "I may not be OK there ... not ready." 

I knew she didn't have a string hanging out—and it wouldn't have mattered to me anyway. 

"You're not on your period, are you?" 

"No, but—" 

"Look at me, Sheila." 

I pulled my hand away from her kitty and put it in my mouth. Her eyes widened as I licked her arousal from my fingers. Her taste drove me wild. 

"You are more than ready for this. I can't wait to make you feel good. Didn't the women in the movies look like they were enjoying it? Let me make love to you like this." 

I inched closer so my lips could touch hers. I used the hand that was holding back her underwear to spread open the silky blonde hair around her flower and eased two fingers inside her. 

"Oh, my god!" 

I started licking—slowly, gently. She shuddered as my tongue danced around her clit. 

"Mmmh! Oh, fuck!" 

It hit me almost as hard. My senses were overtaken by the rich scent of her musk and a gentle hint of the Yardley perfume from her thighs. 

We quickly fell into an urgent rhythm: her gyrating against my mouth while my fingers and tongue brought her closer and closer to the end. Damn, she tasted good. Sheila seemed nervous as her orgasm approached, but her pleading said otherwise. 

"Don't stop, James. Oooh, that's it. Keep going. Keep going. Oh, god!" 

Sheila grabbed my head moments before letting out a long wail. She thrashed about as a raging climax tore through her body. Struggling to catch her breath, she sounded as if she were choking and crying at the same time. Strong contractions clenched my fingers as I thrust them in as deeply as I could. 

When her orgasm eventually tapered off, I stopped licking and brought my fingers to rest. My face was damp with her release. 

Sheila slumped over me, hands on the bed. She was shaking and moaning. I let her calm down a little. 

"I'm going to ease my fingers out of you now, OK? I'll be gentle." A little sigh of disappointment followed. 

She seemed stunned by what had happened. I wriggled free and moved next to her trembling body. She was on her knees and forearms with her face pressed into the pillow. I leaned over and caressed her. 

"Sheila, honey, lie down now. I want to get close to you." 

She eased herself down on the bed. I did the same. 

"Can you lie across my chest?' 

Her eyes were half closed as she crawled on top of me, put her hand on my shoulder, and rested her cheek against mine. Our other hands intertwined as I hugged her tightly, feeling her wet pussy on my hip. Holding her so closely at that moment caused unique sexual sensations to spread through my entire body. I was surprised at their intensity. I stroked her hair and let her recover. She shifted around a little and let out a contented sigh. 

"I'm guessing that was your first time? On the receiving end?" 

"Yes, it was. That's definitely something I could get used to." 

"Sheila, I enjoyed it as much as you did. You may not understand that now, but I did." 

"Hmm, I've never thought about it that way. I guess that was one of the messages from the movies tonight. Giving pleasure brings pleasure." 

She raised her head and gave me a thankful look. 

"That's the first time I've ever come with a man. It felt so good I almost couldn't handle it," she confessed. "I think it was the rush of emotions that went with it. It was so unexpected, based on my other times." 

"It means a lot to me to be your first. You had to trust me enough to let yourself go." 

"I did. I'm glad I did." 

She kissed me gently but passionately, unafraid to taste herself. That got me even hotter. 

"Do you want me to do something for you?" she asked. "Make you come?" 

Oh god, yes! My balls felt like they had been in a vise for the last two hours. I didn't want to push for oral—too much too soon. A hand job would do just fine. All it would take was a few strokes, and I'd be wetting the ceiling. 

"I'd love that. You can use your hands on me." 

"OK. I know I saw a lot of that in the movies tonight, but will you show me how you like it done?" 

"You bet. Sit up and lean back against the wall. Put some pillows back there. We'll sit face to face while you touch me." 

We got into position with our legs spread open. I scooted up close and draped her legs over mine. I needed to come so badly I was ready to faint. I pulled out my cock with my boxers still on and placed her hands on it. 

"Stroke me. It won't take that long. I'm about ready to burst." 

She smiled and tentatively handled my cock. I realized that was likely new territory for her. 

"Have you ever made a man come with your hands?" 

"No, I didn't need to. It was skirt up, undies down, jam it in—and over before I had a chance to think about it. And never face to face. I like the way we're sitting now." 

"There's nothing to it. Remember in the second movie where she jacked him off using both hands? Let's try that."