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Creative Writing Ch. 01

By: komrad1156



*Note to readers: The first erotic story I ever wrote was about an affair I had with my high school English teacher. When I wrote it, I was involved with someone who had a huge BDSM fantasy and I let myself get talked into adding in things that didn't happen to please this person. It's bothered me ever since. (Ironically, the best comments I received in private emails told me how much they liked the mild BDSM stuff.) I'm assuming most readers won't have read that first attempt at erotic storytelling, but in case you did, there will be some old ground re-plowed here. But because I write mostly about my own personal experiences, the ground needs replowing. I hate that I allowed myself to cloud what was my first affair and second sexual experience with a bunch of BS that didn't happen. C'est la vie, no?

This is setting the record straight because it matters to me. Her real first name was well, I'm not going to say because she's still teaching, but mine is Cal, and this is our story.

*****

"Welcome, Miss Parker. Nice to see you again, Mr. Abbot. Come in and have a seat, Mr. Thomas." Mrs. Lloyd stopped smiling and said, "I'm sorry. You must have the wrong room. I know every name on my class list but I don't recognize you. I'm Mrs. Lloyd and this is creating writing."

"Hi, Mrs. Lloyd. It's me. Cal. From your Mythology class?"

Several other juniors and seniors filed in as Michelle Lloyd said, "Oh, my goodness! I swear to God I did not even recognize you, Cal. I'm so sorry but you look like a completely different person. I've seen some amazing transformations before but yours is really something. Please go in and have a seat. And by the way, I'm really glad to see you again. You were such a kind, decent guy." She paused and said, "I hope this new look of yours doesn't change that."

It was the first day of my senior year and I was so unprepared for the reaction I got I'm sure a fair number of people must have thought I was full of myself when I didn't speak to them. But nothing could be further from the truth. In reality, I was so shocked by the way I was being treated, I honestly didn't know what to say so I said nothing. The very same girls who had just the year before moved to the other side of the hall to avoid me were now openly flirting with me and inviting me to parties. Inside, I was still the same shy, overweight kid who had been nicknamed "Bucky" years before because his teeth so horribly misaligned.

On my best days, I'd been left alone. Most of the time, however, I heard several comments about my teeth or my weight or the kind of clothes I wore. My family was quite literally dirt poor so having nice clothes wasn't an option. I grew up in an 800-square foot wooden shack on a gravel road. We had plastic for windows, large holes in the floor, and for several years, a lovely outhouse. My dad was an alcoholic for many years before my mom finally stood up to him. One day, she'd had enough and she gave him an ultimatum. She told him to stop drinking or lose his family. To his credit, he quit cold turkey. He moved us out of the city limits of our small town near Seattle, Washington, and bought the only house in the country he could afford, that rickety wooden shack and an acre of undeveloped land. He worked all day for Weyerhaeuser then came home and worked on the house or cleared land until it was dark. He never took another drink in his life but we were still very poor.

At the end of my freshman year, my mom finally went to work as a nurse's aid in a rest home. It was awful, dirty work dumping bed pans and cleaning bed sores. It paid next to nothing, but that extra money allowed her to do something she'd wanted to do for years but couldn't afford. She was able to get braces for her son. 

I wore them my sophomore year but my teeth were SO bad, that there was very little change and certainly no noticeable effect on my life. I came back for my junior year still some 20 pounds overweight and my teeth were beginning to come into alignment but they were still pretty bad. My hope was that eventually, I wouldn't have to endure any more taunts about having bucked teeth. The worst one I ever got came from the cutest varsity cheerleader who was a senior during my freshman year. There were a lot of kids around her when she saw me coming and called out to me, "Oh, Calvin? Could you come here?" Everyone was staring and smiling in anticipation of the joke we all knew I'd soon be the butt of as she said, "Thank God you're here. Listen, I need you to kiss me." Everyone chuckled and my face turned beet red. "You see," she told me, "I have this terrible itch at the back of my throat and I thought that with those teeth of yours, you might be able to scratch it for me." By this time, there were some 50 kids standing around and all of them roared with laughter as she puckered up for me. I lowered my head and slunk away the way I had so many times before.

I'd also been held back in the first grade so I turned 18 during my junior year. During the winter break of that year, I asked my dad—again—if I could start lifting weights at school. He'd told me no several times before claiming I was too young and that I would hurt my body. This time he said yes but on one condition: I couldn't quit. I had to lift for six months or no deal. I was so excited I hugged my dad for the first time in several years and promised him I'd stick with it.

Two days after classes started, I went to mom the following morning and said, "I hurt so bad I can't even turn over in bed. You have to ask dad for me if I can quit lifting. This was a huge mistake. Please, Mom?"

She cut me off at the waist. "You've got to be kidding me! Do you know how hard it was to convince your father to let me get braces for you instead of spending the money on the house or fixing the car? You made a deal with him and by God, you're going to honor it. I am not stepping in and getting involved. Now you get your butt to school and you will lift weights today and every day for at least six months just like you promised."

I started to beg but this time, my mom was stronger than steel. No way. No quitting. And I'm still grateful for her resolve to this day.

A few days later the intense soreness went away and after that all I faced was an almost-pleasant kind of stiffness the day after a workout. By the end of the year, I noticed that all of my baby fat was gone and I was starting to see some real results. I actually had a chest! Hell, I even had shoulders and traps and my arms were showing the earliest signs of some "guns." They might only be popguns, but they were definitely there.

I got my braces removed shortly after the end of my junior year and kept working out at a small, local gym over the summer where I cleaned up each morning in exchange for the privilege of using the facility. Just before the start of my senior year, my mom's sister came to visit and she said, "Oh, my goodness! Is that Cal?" My mom assured her it was and she said, "Come here and let me see you!"

I'd just finished a workout when my Aunt Jean was looking me over. She was shocked by what she saw. She told my mom, "This is unbelievable! I want him to get dressed and come with me." I had no idea what she had in mind but my mom told me to go find out and I always did what me mom said. 

She took me to the beauty salon where she worked and sat me down and cut and styled my thick, black hair. I'd always just worn a mop on top because haircuts were too expensive. My mom would trim it up once a month or so and that was plenty because I was basically invisible to the whole world anyway.

When she finished up, she showed me the final result. "Holy cow!" was my reaction. "I look like that guy on the TV show Friends," I told her.

"You sure do!" she said. "Joey, right?" I couldn't remember his name but that was the guy. My hair looked amazing and I had no idea it even could like anything like that.

The only other decent feature I had were what my mom called "girly eyes." Later someone told me they were "Bradley Cooper eyes." I hated my mom's term when I was young but I found myself grateful for being born with something that would turn out to be so appealing to so many women once I was able to fix all the other cosmetic problems that kept them from looking at me twice.

She also took me shopping and bought me several new shirts, pairs of jeans, and other things we could never afford. My first experience with being flirted with came at that store. There was a girl who was home from college working there. When I came out with the first new outfit on she said, "You look so HOT!" As I handed her the stuff we were keeping, she said, "My name's Janelle, btw. If you want to go out sometime, just let me know." I blushed heavily (as usual) because NO girls EVER even talked to me, let alone asked me out. Especially not the cute ones and Janelle was very good looking.

My braces were off and my teeth were very white and perfectly straight. The bird's nest on top of my head was styled and combed. I had decent clothes and after almost eight full months of lifting and eating right, my body was beginning to look nicely ripped. Because I didn't have a single friend at school outside of Glen, who was almost as unpopular as me, there was no one to tout my new changes over the summer to the "ruling class", so all of this came crashing down on me at once.

When that first day of school arrived, I had never been on a date. In fact, I had zero experience even talking with girls so I had no idea what to say when one of them spoke to me. Inside, I was still the ugly kid everyone knew as Bucky. So when those same girls who didn't know I was alive just three months ago started coming up to me and asking me to this party or that dance, or telling me how amazing this change was, I panicked—after my face turned red, that is. I'd just do what I'd always done. I lowered my head and slunk away. Everywhere I went, clusters of girls were stopping, turning, smiling, and pointing. Deep down, I knew it was for positive reasons, but you don't erase a lifetime of negativity in a few days no matter how dramatic the change. 

That takes me back to that first day in my creative writing class with Mrs. Lloyd.

There were three primary reasons why she was my favorite teacher. The first was well...she was just so good looking! She was 37 that year and yet she was so attractive it made my 'heart hurt.' She had long, sandy blonde hair she often wore in a swept-up style but every now and then she it wore down around her shoulders. Her hair framed a very young-looking, heart-shaped face which had beautiful blue eyes, high cheekbones, and a perfect, gorgeous smile with soft, full lips. If that wasn't enough to get any young man's motor running, she also had a killer figure with slender legs, a tight butt, a tight waist, and perfect C-cup boobs. She wore just enough makeup to enhance her natural beauty and pretty much every guy in school had a thing for her. My thing could more rightly be termed an obsession. A big part of that was due to the way she dressed, which coupled with her amazing figure and beautiful face, made her absolutely freaking gorgeous to me. 

That's where my quasi-fetish come in. You see, growing up near Seattle means it's cold most of the year. Not Minnesota cold but 45-degrees cold. It's often just raw and gray. So most girls and women wear what I like nine months out of the year. I'll call them 'sweaters' but that's just the generic term for what I like. My thing is for form-fitting knit tops, not just sweaters. If they're ribbed, that's a huge extra for me. Mrs. Lloyd wore that sort of thing nearly every day and it just drove me out of my mind. She wore pants more than the skirts I favored so it was a special treat when she'd wear a pretty sweater with a short skirt and heels. The ultimate was to see that combination with her long, silky hair worn down. I thought I might wear my dick down to a tiny nub from whacking off while fantasizing about her so often but I really didn't care. To me, it was well worth the risk!

She was also very kind to me. As the ugly duckling, she'd been my protector. I was teacher's pet and although I got a lot of grief for it outside the classroom, no one dared criticize me in her room when she was there. She told me several times what a nice, polite young man I was and how she wished every boy was as courteous as me. That was the reason she expressed concern I might change internally in conjunction with all of the external changes. That I didn't, later played a huge role in the two us ending up together just before Christmas and throughout the rest of my senior year.

Lastly, she was just a really good teacher. She was always well prepared and she made all of the mythological creatures we studied in her class come alive in such an interesting way. I wasn't sure how she could make creative writing interesting, but I thought if anyone could, it would be her.

I, of course, had no idea what her personal life was like. I only saw her for 50 minutes a day, five days a week, and then occasionally in the halls at school. I didn't know she was married to a very successful architect who was cold and distant and often away from home. Even when he was there, he wasn't available for her. But as hard as that was for her, what made it all bearable was having her 17-year old son, Brad, living at home with them. He was her world. Well, at least until the day he came home and told his parents he was enlisting in the Navy. Michelle told him, "Over my dead body! You will NOT do that. You're staying in school, graduating in June, and going to college next year. End of story!"

That's when her husband put down his newspaper and quietly said, "If you pass the GED, I'll sign for you, Brad." He picked the paper back up and kept reading as though his son had just asked to borrow the car. I had no idea he took and passed the GED and would be leaving home (and his doting mother) right after Thanksgiving? Very few 18-year olds can imagine a beautiful, married woman being sad, lonely, and desperate for affection. Especially one like me who was utterly clueless about women in general, let alone one as attractive as Michelle Lloyd. To me, it was impossible for her not to be showered with love, attention, and endless affection at home. That just couldn't happen.

As those first weeks of class came and went, the still-unwanted attention kept coming. And coming. And coming! Rumors began spreading that I was gay because I was ignoring the cutest girls in school. I wasn't gay, I was just scared to death to talk to any of them. 

Sometime in September, the closest thing I had to a friend, Glen, a Mormon kid who was almost as shy and awkward as me, asked if I'd like to meet a girl who was home from Brigham Young University who needed a partner for what he called "Dance Festival." Her father was ill so she was given a six-week furlough without having to drop out. She just did her work on-line and sent it in from home. I'd visited his church once before but I didn't care for religion. It wasn't just his, it was the whole God thing. Because it was church-based, I almost said no until he told me who this girl was. She was two years ahead of me in school and I'd had a crush on her for as long as I could remember. I was both excited and afraid when I agreed to meet her.

Karen Mooreland was, in a word, a babe. That's the only way to describe her. She was the one girl (other than Mrs. Lloyd) who was the object of most of my masturbatory fantasies. I knew she had no idea who I was and my hope was that she might actually find me attractive enough to want to ask to be her dance partner.

That was an understatement. Karen was a Mormon but she was also very sexually aggressive. From the moment my friend, Glen, introduced us she grabbed my hand and said, "Nice to meet you, Cal. You're my partner. End of story!"

I had a hard on the entire time I was with her from that first moment on. She told her friend who brought her to rehearsal that I'd be driving her home that first night and on the way to her parents' house she said, "Do you wanna to go parking?" I didn't even know what 'parking' meant but I said, "Sure" hoping it was something nice. Was it ever!

We sat and made out for at least an hour and my mouth and jaw were so (wonderfully) sore the next day I could barely eat. On the next "date" we were doing the same thing when she took my hand and put it on her breast. I nearly came in my jeans when she said, "Sometimes, I just really need a cute guy to do that." We petted and kissed for what seemed like hours before I finally took her home. A few days thereafter, she told me she knew what I needed and reached over and put her hand on my crotch. Before she could even unsnap my Levis 501s, I came all over myself. She didn't make fun of me but rather said, "That's okay. Sometimes that happens. We'll try again later." And try we did. She gave me my first-ever blow job while driving to Seattle for district dance practice. A week later we were at the drive-in (at her suggestion) and within minutes found ourselves completely undressed. Karen smiled as he caressed one another's naked bodies and said, "It doesn't take long for us to get naked, does it?" Moments later she said, "Cal? I wanted you to know I've decided I'm willing to do anything for you. Anything at all."

Later that night, I lost my virginity near a bridge on a country road not too far from the Weyerhaeuser Mill where my dad worked. Before she left to go back to college, I was at least minimally experienced in the ways of pleasing a woman. And more importantly, I gained a small amount of something I'd never had—self confidence. I wasn't cocky. I wasn't arrogant. I just stopped being so utterly timid and shy and thank God—I stopped blushing all the time. And once the word spread that I had a girlfriend and a college girlfriend, to boot, most of the flirting and the other attention died down. Hey, he's NOT gay spread around campus like wildfire. Whew! 

I liked Karen. I loved having sex with her, but my real romantic interests lied elsewhere.

So this brings us to the end of October of that year when Mrs. Lloyd gave us the assignment that would later change both of our lives by bringing us together at a time when both of needed someone to make us feel needed, cared for, and special.

"Okay, we've written several papers so far and this will be the most challenging assignment yet. I want a 5-10 page paper on the following topic: Who would you most like to spend a day with and why? It doesn't matter whom you choose as long as you support your choice well. Everything we've covered up to now will be graded. Introductory paragraph, transitional sentences, coherence, summary paragraph, etc. It will be due the day before you go on Thanksgiving break."

Because of my positive experiences with Karen, I felt embolden to put on paper what I'd been feeling about her since I was in her Mythology class. I decided to write a paper about a hypothetical high school senior who had a crush on a hypothetical English teacher. In it, I explained the way this student had always admired this woman not just for external beauty but for the wonderful, caring person she was; for the way she always made this awkward, unattractive young man feel like he mattered—to her. I wrote about the way this young man dreamed of spending just one evening with the most beautiful women he'd ever seen. What would it be like to have dinner with her? To watch a movie together? To just sit and talk? I summarized the paper with a line I hoped would help win her heart: I chose "these are the things dreams are made of" because I she'd said more than once she loved Bogart movies. I'd never seen one but I did know how to use a computer and a search engine. 

I carefully laid out how this boy was too shy to ever tell her how beautiful he thought she was let alone the way he admired her taste in fashion and style. It was sophisticated, classy, and even sexy but not what anyone would call pretentious. All those things were true, but this young man didn't see her like that. Whenever he looked at her, he saw this beautiful person for the kind, loving human being she was. He wasn't sure why but he often wondered if somehow this lovely girl who gave so much of herself, who was so considerate of others and their needs, might somehow not receive such gifts in return. It seemed unimaginable to him that such a lovely creature could live even one day on this earth without being reminded how beautiful and special she was. And yet couldn't help but wonder if that same kind of love was missing from her own life. The thought brought him to the brink of despair because he, as well as any other boy, knew the heartbreak of unrequited love. Although he often felt himself unworthy of such love, he believed that this woman, whom he so adored, should have that and so much more.


Creative Writing Ch. 01



At no point did I say anything crass or untoward. It was a pouring out of many months of pent-up passion and genuine admiration. I had this hypothetical student tell his hypothetical teacher that should she ever grace him with her most precious gift—her time—that no one would ever know of it. And lastly, because he knew the very real concerns facing her, he provided her with a way to reach out to him should she ever choose to do so. It would be their private, secret code. All she need do was make a faint pencil notation in the upper righthand corner of an assignment. Should she write, "F9p" he would understand that to mean Friday at 9pm. Should she write, "Sa10a" he'd know to come to her on Saturday at 10am. Unless otherwise specified, he would meet her at her home making sure not draw any attention from neighbors with watchful eyes.

Just before the bell rang that Wednesday at noon, I laid my paper on her desk and wished her a happy Thanksgiving. She smiled bravely and said, "Thank you, Cal, but I don't think that's going to be possible this year." I didn't ask her why, but she knew her beloved Brad was leaving home Monday morning and the thought of it was breaking her heart.

When I got to class on Monday, there was a substitute. After a tearful, early goodbye, Mrs. Lloyd crawled back in bed and cried the rest of the day. She was too distraught to even get out of bed let alone teach class. She came back to work on Tuesday but she wasn't herself. Her eyes were swollen and puffy. She was distant and unprepared. She told us she hadn't had a chance to look at our papers but promised us she'd return them by Monday of the following week.

When that day came, I couldn't take my eyes off of her. Her hair was uncharacteristically down. It was long, soft, and smooth with a gentle wave running through it. I was also fixated on the soft, yellow sweater and skirt she'd worn to the point I didn't even notice when she began passing back our papers toward the end of class. Someone next me tapped me on the shoulder and said, "Another 'A'. Looks like someone is still teacher's pet, dude!" I looked down and noticed a large "A" written on it in red marker. I smiled until I remembered the code. It was then I noticed there was a pencil notation in the upper righthand corner. My heart leapt into my throat until I read what it said: Please see me.

I waited until the last student left and remained seated at my desk. Mrs. Lloyd closed the door and said, "May I sit down?" She was pointing to the desk across from mine. I told her that would be fine.

"Cal?" she began. "First of all, I wanted to tell you your paper was superb. It was by far the most well-written paper in the class and that's why I gave you an A. But may I ask you a question?"

"Of course," I replied.

"This hypothetical teacher. Is that me by any chance?" 

The was no judgment or condemnation in her voice and her facial expression told me she wasn't angry. Even so, I was no longer feeling confident. In fact, I was feeling very uncomfortable. "Well," I began. "It was, you know, just a hypothetical student and a hypothetical teacher so..."

She stopped me and said, "Cal, you've always been honest with me and I need you to be honest with me now. I'm not upset. I just need to know. Was this story really about you and me and the way you feel about me?"

I felt my face begin to turn red for the first time in many weeks but I didn't lose control. "Are you going to refer me to the principal if I say 'yes'?" I asked shyly.

"No, of course not. I just want you to tell me the truth."

I looked down and then back up at her and said quietly, "Yes." I couldn't maintain eye contact so I looked back down and asked her, "So now are you mad at me?"

Her look softened even more as she said, "No, of course I'm not mad at you. I was actually...very flattered. Your entire paper was without doubt full of the nicest things anyone has ever said about me. So how could I be mad?" She looked at me with such compassion that I no longer felt so awkward. "But Cal, you understand nothing like that can ever happen, right? I mean, you know I'm married and I'm also your teacher. Those two things alone mean I couldn't spend time with you—like that—even if I wanted to."

She waited for me to look at her again before continuing. "I want you to know that last week was perhaps the worst week of my life." She didn't go into detail but she did mention something happened involving her husband and her son that had broken her heart. As she did, her eyes filled with tears and I wanted nothing more than to be able to take her in my arms and hold her. Instead, I got up and grabbed her a tissue from the box on her desk, handed it to her, then sat back down.

"Thank you," she said as she dabbed her eyes. "You have always been the sweetest boy in all of my classes. I was so worried you might turn into the kind of person who tormented you for so long when you went through this...transition of yours. But you're still a very kind, very sweet, very gentle boy and if there was ever a student I would spend time with—if I could—it would definitely be with you. But you understand why I can't, right? It's very important to me that I not hurt your feelings. And they came through loud and clear in your paper, by the way. And again, it was so sweet of you to say such nice things—especially during a time when I was going through something so difficult. So thank you for that." She sat the tissue down then said, "And since you promised you'd never tell anyone anything we did together, I'm trusting you to include this meeting as part of that promise. Will it?" After I nodded she said, "I wanted to tell you while it's just you and me here that I read your paper five times."

"You did?" I asked with sincerity.

"Yes, I did." She looked down almost as though she were the one was now embarrassed as she said, "Even as I was reading it the first time I had this feeling that you had been the proverbial fly on the wall watching me. Watching me live my life. I almost felt betrayed as though someone had told you about my marriage and my distant husband and the loneliness. But you also made me feel so...beautiful and so...special. I was just amazed away that any boy—sorry—young man—your age, could write something so insightful and so personal without being rude or explicit. I actually thought it was very...romantic. So I wanted to thank you for making a middle-aged woman who doesn't feel beautiful, feel good about herself. That was so very kind of you and it was exactly what I needed. That was very sweet of you, Cal. It doesn't change anything, mind you. I just had such an awful week and your paper turned it completely around for me so I would be remiss not sharing this with you. It was the sweetest gift and one I will always treasure."

I sat there just staring at her. My heart was beating fast and while I heard every word, I couldn't concentrate. She finally waved her hand and said, "Cal? Hello? Are you in there?"

I came to myself and said, "I'm sorry. I really was listening. It's just that... Well, I want to be honest now, too. It's just...it's just so...so hard...to concentrate whenever I look at you. I don't mean to be inappropriate. I did hear you tell me you're married and my teacher. It's just that...well...you're not like any other woman I've even known or even seen, for that matter. You're always so kind and so thoughtful and so caring, and it's those things that led me to write what I wrote. I mean, you really are as beautiful as I said but it's everything else that makes you so special to me. That's why it really would be such a pleasure to be able to spend even a few hours with you some time. Just to talk." I could feel my face had reddened slightly again. Thankfully, Mrs. Lloyd didn't mention it.

"Again, thank you so much, but I explained why that can't happen, right? You told me you were listening so I just need to be sure you understand what I said."

I have no idea where this came from but it did indeed come to me. I looked directly into her eyes as I spoke very softly. "Yes, you did explain it. Well, partly, at least. You gave me two reasons why it wouldn't be right, but what you didn't say was all I heard."

She tilted her head and asked, "I don't understand. What didn't I say?"

"You told me you're married and that you're my teacher. Both of those things are true. But you didn't say you don't feel 'that way' about me. And you didn't say you have no interest in ever spending time with me."

I waited for her response but she didn't say a word. She was sitting there staring right through me. I waited for a moment but she seemed suddenly disconnected so I stood up and said in the gentlest way I knew how, "Mrs. Lloyd? I just wanted to say I know doing something like this with me would be very difficult, possibly even uncomfortable, and potentially very dangerous for you. I won't ever mention it again after this. But, well...should you ever change your mind, you know how to let me know. I meant it when I said I won't ever say a word to anyone about spending time with you—or our talk—but that doesn't mean my heart won't beat fast every time you hand back an assignment as I look at the corner hoping against hope there might be a message there from you. Anyway, thank you for all the kind words. They mean a lot to me. I just want say one more time I meant every word I wrote. You really are beautiful and special."

She was still glassy eyed. She just kept staring right through me as though she'd been hypnotized. I finished saying what I had to say, looked down, then picked up my things and left the classroom.

There were roughly two weeks left until Christmas break and the end of the first semester. We got back another paper and a quiz. Much to my chagrin there was nothing but a letter grade on either one. While both were As, what I really wanted to see wasn't there.

We had another half day before going on break and I came very close to skipping school. The only reasons I went were to lift before school and because we had one more paper to be returned. Each class was shortened so I only had 20 minutes in Mrs. Lloyd's class. She waited until we had about a minute before the bell before handing back our papers. She had one left in her hand as the bell rang and as it did, everyone bolted for the door hooping and hollering. I stood up and Mrs. Lloyd slid my paper on my desk without looking at me.

I didn't have my backpack with me so I just picked up the paper and started to walk out. I saw another large "A" at the top in red and then my heart stopped when I saw a very faint mark in the upper right corner. It read: F8p. It took all the willpower I had not to turn and look at her or to react in any way. I lowered my paper then picked it up again and double checked. The notation was definitely there. My legs felt rubbery and my stomach was in knots. 

This was a Wednesday and I had to wait all the way until Friday evening. The next thirty-some hours were the longest of life up to that point. The minutes took hours and the hours took days. It was torture and the clock was my tormentor. I asked my Aunt Jean for another haircut and her advice on what to wear to impress someone special. She suggested jeans with a nice button-down shirt so that's what I wore. I hit the gym hard both Thursday and Friday. I played video games. I paced. I fretted. 

Then finally, it was 7:30 and time to leave the house. My palms were sweaty and I felt like I was going to throw up as I pulled into her driveway. I knew where she lived. Everyone did. It was the nicest development in our town. Her home was enormous. It was over 5,000 square feet with huge picture windows with a beautiful panoramic view of Mount Ranier. I knew enough to drive around to the back where two stalls of their four-car garage were open. I was relieved when I saw her little Miata was the only car there. I pulled in, took several deep breaths then got out and went to the door. No one could see directly into the garage but I still hit the door opener when I got to it. I stood there for a moment, took a few more breaths, then knocked. I waited for what seemed like an eternity before I heard the sound of heels clicking in the hallway followed by, "Cal? Is that you?"

It was dark and cold and I didn't bring my jacket. "Hi, yes. It's me."

It was quiet for a moment before I heard a very nervous-sounding voice say, "I'm really sorry but I don't think I can go through with this. I thought I could but I'm really...afraid. I seem to have lost my nerve. Can you please forgive me?"

I felt like I'd just been kicked in the stomach (or somewhere lower.) I was afraid to talk too loudly as sound carries at night and I didn't want some neighbor hearing this even though the garage was shut and no one lived within 50 yards of the house. I put my face as close the door as I could and said, "Mrs. Lloyd? I understand being concerned but there's no 'this' to go through with. It's just you and me sitting down and talking. That's it. It's really cold out here. May I please just come in?"

Another pause followed by, "Um...well...can you just wait there for another minute? Give me just another minute and I'll let you in. Okay?"

What else could I say? "Okay. Sure."

Nearly five minutes later I heard a very soft sound on the floor followed by, "Cal? Are you still there?"

I was shivering and blowing on my hands but I was determined to stay there all night if I had to. "Yes," I replied.

The door opened and Michelle peeked out through the crack. "Come in, please. I'm so sorry to make you wait."

I stepped inside and felt the warmth of the house. "Thank you!" I said as I rubbed my arms to warm myself up.

"Oh, my goodness! I'm so sorry!" she said sincerely. "I didn't even think about the temperature. Come in and I'll make us some hot chocolate."

She barely made eye contact with me but I was most definitely looking at her. I noticed her hair had been bleached a lighter shade of blonde and that she had on quite a bit of makeup but no lipstick. Her hair was also pulled back into a pony tail which wasn't unheard of but I'd only seen her wear it that way once or twice. She was wearing black sweatpants and a baggy black t-shirt. Oddly, she was also wearing some very expensive gold earrings. And although it was nearly hidden under her t-shirt I could see she also had on an even more expensive gold necklace. None of that made any sense to me. Who wears jewelry with sweats?

She warmed up some milk in the kitchen as she mostly kept her back to me. She turned off the burner then reached for the Hersey's syrup. "Did you have any trouble finding the house?" she asked me.

"Um, no. I actually knew where you lived. These homes are the nicest in town. What I mean is I mean is everyone knows where they are."

She laughed nervously and said, "This was my husband's dream home. He drew up the blueprints and also served as the project manager when it was built."

"It's really amazing," I said. "My family lives in a very small house that's maybe 800 square feet. It's very modest but as they say, it's home."

She stirred in the syrup and said, "You are so mature for someone your age. Did you know you talk more like an adult than many of my adult friends? You have a very good perspective on reality, Cal."

She sat the mug in front of me and said, "It's so cold out there tonight. I really am sorry I made you wait outside." She kept stirring her glass but still hadn't looked at me.

"It's okay. I'm sure you had a very good reason. You're too nice to do anything like that intentionally. So it's fine—really. And thank you for letting me come in. Oh, and thank you for the hot chocolate. It's delicious."

She finally put the spoon down and then looked up at me. "That was all my fault. For leaving you outside, I mean. It was intentional. I just..." I didn't respond. I sat and waited to see if she'd tell me why. "I was actually very excited about the prospect of seeing you tonight until about ten minutes before you got here. Then out of nowhere, I panicked. I'm not kidding. I couldn't breath and I couldn't think. I suddenly went from being excited to feeling embarrassed and even ashamed. I've never done anything crazy like that before and I'm sorry you got caught in the middle of it. You didn't deserve that."

"Crazy how?" I asked politely.

Michelle took a sip of her hot chocolate and said, "This is so silly, but well, I spent most of the day yesterday out shopping. I kept running the things you wrote about me through my mind and I wanted to look exactly like the woman you described in your paper. I tried on a couple of dozen different sweaters and skirts and finally settled on one that was the same color and style you said were your favorite. Well, your hypothetical student's favorite on his hypothetical teacher." She smiled a weak smile then continued. "I had my hair done today and I even got a makeover." She looked down again and said, "This is so hard to say."

"It's okay. Really. I'm not here to judge. You can tell me anything and please never feel embarrassed with me. You could never do or say anything wrong."

She looked at me again with the saddest of eyes and said, "You really are amazing. I feel like such a fool, but just hearing you say that makes me feel better. At any rate, I was wearing that new outfit I bought with you in mind. Then just before you were due to show up, I panicked. I couldn't think. I felt like everything was closing in on me and the only thing I could think of was to just not let you come in. But once I heard your voice, I felt even more guilty for inviting you here only to send you home. So I...I ran to my bedroom and changed into...this. I guess it's my way of trying to tell myself if I look like this then none of this really matters and..."

"Mrs. Lloyd? It's okay," I assured her. "I didn't come here to see you wear something in particular. I came here to see you. And as I said, there's no 'this' for you to go through unless just talking with me is really that arduous for you."

"Arduous! You see? What 18-year old uses that word? And here you are comforting me...again...after I've made a fool out myself and then made a bigger scene by trying to hide the foolish things I did to try and..."

"To try and what?"

She looked down at her mug as she told me, "To...impress you. I really can't explain what I was feeling. It's just that with Brad leaving and Hugh gone all the time and your paper and my..."

"Brad left? Where did he go? And when?"

"Oh, sorry. I just assumed everyone knew. He enlisted in the Navy last month and he's in boot camp now. I must have cried off on and on for a week. It still kills me."

"I didn't know. I really sorry. I thought he was a senior at the other high school in town."

She explained how that all came about and I could see it was hurtful to talk about.

"Listen, if you need to talk about this, I'll listen all night. It's just really hard to someone I care about so much hurting this badly. Maybe we could discuss something less painful for you?" I suggested with raised eyebrows.

For the first time, I saw her look at me. She'd looked at me hundreds of times but she'd never actually looked at me that way before. I was too young to understand what it meant. I just knew it was...different.

"So Brad's been gone for almost five weeks and Hugh, my husband, is supervising a project in Spokane. He's been gone all week and won't be home until the 24th. So this big, beautiful house feels more like a minimum security prison than a home." She realized what she'd just said then said, "Oh, wow. That wasn't what you had in mind, was it? I'm so sorry, Cal. I'm really not very good company tonight." She paused again then said, "But I am glad you're here. I may not be very good company but I am really enjoying yours."




Creative Writing Ch. 01



We made small talk for quite a while. She told me where she grew up, where she went to college, how she met her husband, how she'd gotten pregnant too soon and had a baby when she was just 20. Getting pregnant was a mistake she told me, but Brad was anything but. He was her pride and joy and the love of her life. As we talked, she told me how she and Hugh had slowly drifted apart over the years to where their marriage could now best be described as a mostly platonic friendship. She wasn't complaining. She was merely describing the situation as she saw it and was now living it.

"So maybe that's why your paper was so special to me. You said all the things every woman wants to hear. Even so, I hope you can understand the way I feel. I can't be a Mrs. Robinson to you, Cal. You are so kind and so sweet. I don't want you to look back and feel that way about me. Does that make sense?"

"It does," I told her. "But please know I would never feel that way. You're not coming on to me and you're not um...seducing me. We're just talking. And I have no agenda or goal other than to be able to get to know you. So whatever does or doesn't happen, please understand that I will always respect and admire you." I hesitated before saying, "And I will always think you're beautiful and special—no matter what you wear."

Michelle looked at me again with that look. It was brief but it was definitely there. She cleared her throat and said, "Coach Simpson told me about your weightlifting. Are you also playing any sports this year?"

"Oh, no. I've never tried out for any team sport."

"You don't care for sports?"

"I like them okay. It's just that up until this year, I pretty much avoided any situation that gave other people the opportunity to make fun of me. It doesn't take very much of that to make you gun shy. When you're the most unattractive kid in school you tend to avoid any place that makes you vulnerable to more attacks."

"Oh, Cal. I'm so sorry. I didn't even think about that. You had to deal with that all those years and I can't even imagine how difficult and cruel and unfair that was. All I see now is the new you sitting in front of me and it's just hard to remember you like that." I didn't say anything so Michelle continued by saying, "I'm sure you didn't know this but when you were in my Mythology class I went out my way to make certain no one gave you a hard time."

I smiled and said politely, "No. I noticed. How could I not? I mean, other than my own home and maybe my friend Glen's house, your classroom was the only place I ever felt completely safe." Michelle was looking directly at me, her pretty eyes darting back and forth between my own. "In fact, that's the reason I chose you for the person I'd most like to spend a day with. It's the reason I feel the way I feel about you." Now it was my turn to look away. However I might appear physically, I was still that emotionally banged-up, overweight kid with the horrible grill.

Michelle never stopped looking at me. She could see I was uncomfortable. She told me, "Remember when I asked you to stay after school? When I tried to explain why this could never happen?"

"Of course," I replied.

"What I didn't tell you was that you were right."

"How so?" I asked. "Right about what?"

"I told you how your paper made me feel like you were watching me live my life. But what you told me just before you left did made me feel that even more so. I told you I was married and your teacher. You said you noticed I never mentioned I didn't have the same kind of feelings you have nor did I say I didn't want to spend time with you. That left me dumbstruck."

"Why is that?" I asked. "Is that also because I'm chronologically too young to know such things?"

She smiled warmly and said, "Chronologically. You see? There you go again! It's partly that. But mostly it was because it was as though no matter what words I said, you could look right past them and see into my heart." Now it was her turn to feel uncomfortable. "Cal, you've been so open and so honest with me that I feel the need to be just as honest with you. And, well, the truth is...I...I do have those kinds of...feelings for you. I just couldn't allow myself to admit it to you. At least not then. I convinced myself those feelings weren't real and that if I could just convince you I don't want to,—you know, spend time with you, that this would pass and I wouldn't have to confront them. And somehow, you saw right through that in spite of my best efforts to be the sensible adult. And now I learn you knew I was protecting you when I tried so hard to be subtle. All of this is just so...it's so... Actually, I'm not sure how to express the way it makes me feel. But before I stop talking, I want to tell you one other thing. You may have felt like the most un—attractive kid in school before, but I want to assure you that you are now by far the most a—ttractive kid in school. And no, I'm not just saying that because you've been so nice to me. It's true. Pretty much every girl in every one of my classes is talking about you—and in a good way."

"Wow. I can't imagine any compliment meaning more to me than that one since it's coming from you. 'Thank you' seems so...inadequate. And please know it isn't my intention to make you feel that way, Mrs. Lloyd. I honestly just wanted to have the chance to get to know you and to be your friend and I don't think I've ever enjoyed a conversation more in my entire life."

Michelle smiled as she said, "You're so young and yet you have the soul of someone who's so much older; someone who is insightful and wise beyond his years. That makes no sense to me, logically speaking. I've known hundreds of high school boys who range in maturity from unusually mature to downright moronic. But I've never known anyone your age who is like you. Then again, logic doesn't apply to the things of the heart, does it? I guess what I'm saying is that this has been just as pleasant for me and that makes me feel even sillier for the way I behaved when you knocked on the door. All of my fears were ill-founded and I couldn't have been more wrong."

We sat in an uncomfortable silence for a few moments before Michelle said, "Okay. So no sports. What do you like to do?"

"Um, well, I like school. I like video games. I like sci-fi. I like action movies. I like weightlifting." After a brief pause I smiled and said, "I like being here spending time with you."

She smiled and said, "Truth be told? I'm enjoying this very much, too. This is really nice. Do you like any other kinds of movies? Do you enjoy playing board games?"

"I'm not really into other kinds of movies but I'm willing to try new things. I know you like Bogart films so if you want to watch one of those, that'd be fine. And yes, I like playing board games. Did you have one in mind?"

"Ah, Bogie movies. I do love them. And your line from the Maltese Falcon really touched me, by the way. As to board games, why yes I do, as a matter of fact, have one in mind!" she exclaimed. "Let's go into the living room and I'll show you what I've got. While I'm getting the games down, you can look through my DVD collection. Are you a fan of Monopoly by any chance?"

"Like any good nerd, I am. But I have to warn you, I'm very good at it."

She pulled the box down from a shelf in one of the beautiful built-ins and said, "Ha! I'll have you bankrupted before the movie's over. And for the record, you don't look like any nerd I've ever seen."

"Well thank you, but I can assure you am a true nerd at heart," I replied. Then I told her, "Monopoly? Bring it on!"

She set out the board and asked if I'd found anything interesting. "Uh, well, these are pretty much all romantic comedies. You don't have any sci-fi or anything with Chuck Norris or Steven Seagal in them? Maybe even an Ahnold movie like Terminator?"

"No, sorry. I'm pretty much into just classics and chick-flicks. I don't like being scared during a movie, and I can't take watching someone beat the heck out of other people so I stick with the stuff that makes me laugh...or cry."

"Uh, I don't think watching something sad is such a good idea with everything you've been dealing with this week. Do you have any straight-up comedies?"

"I do!" She got up and handed me another dozen or so choices. I found something with Jennifer Aniston and chose that. Not because I liked the movie, mind you. I hadn't even heard of it. I just thought she was hot.

"I love this movie. It's perfect! If you'll be the banker and get us set up I'll get the movie started. Would it be too um, 'corny' to make some popcorn?"

I couldn't help but laugh at her attempted humor. "What? Why are you laughing at me?" she said in a mock pout.

"I'm not laughing at you, Mrs. Lloyd. You're just so..."

"So what? I'm so—what?"

"You're really cute when you try and be funny."

She put her hands on her hips and said with mock indignation, "I'll have you know I'm very funny! Are you saying I'm not funny?"

I put my hands up indicating surrender and told her, "Oh, no. I would never say that." Then in a very exaggerated voice I said, "You're very funny, Mrs. Lloyd."

She pointed her finger at me and said, "You're in so much trouble, mister!"

We sat down with a huge bowl of popcorn, started the movie and rolled the dice to see who'd go first. I chose the Top Hat and she chose the Dog. Before we knew it, the movie ended and she let it automatically start over. At that point, we both had hotels on several monopolies and the game was fairly close. By the time we were finishing up the game, the movie was also coming to an for the second time.

I had a large stack of Monopoly money and property deeds in front of me when I said, "Okay, lady. I have all your money and all your property except for that last railroad which I am now buying from the bank. Hand it over."

Michelle grabbed it and clutched it to her body. "No way! I'm not giving up..." She looked down at the card to see which one it was. "I'm not giving up the Reading Railroad. I have my pride you know."

I reached and said, "Past tense, Mrs. Lloyd. You had your pride. I believe I've taken that along with all of your cash, your hotels, your houses, and your property. Tell you what! I'll let you keep your dignity. As a token of my magnanimity, you may keep your little toy dog. How's that!"

She put her hand over her mouth and laughed loudly. "Magnanimity! There you go again! How do you even know that word?" she teased.

"I have a really good English teacher," I told her proudly. "Now give!"

"But I won't have anything left," she said in a mock pout.

"You'll have a new friend," I said matter of factly. "Seems like a reasonable trade, doesn't it?"

I got that look yet again before she held it out and said quietly, "You're right. That's more than reasonable. It's...invaluable. Here. You won. Fair and square." Then she perked up and warned me, "But next time, you better watch out, buddy!"

She suddenly sounded worried. We'd both lost track of time when Michelle said, "Oh, my gosh! It's after 2am. You should probably be getting home. Where do your parents think you are?" 

"They think I'm at Glen's. Besides, they don't worry about me like that when it isn't a school night. It's fine, really."

"I'm so glad. I would feel terrible if I caused any problems for you," she said with genuine sincerity.

The movie ended and the DVD player had shut off. We stood there in silence for a moment when Michelle said, "You know, Casablanca is my all-time favorite movie. I cry every time I watch it and I've seen at least a dozen times. Have you ever watched it?"

"Um, no. Sorry. I've never even heard of it."

"You're kidding!" she said. "Have you even watched the Maltese Falcon?"

I shook my head and told her the truth. "I knew you liked Bogart movies so I just Googled his name for famous phrases. Sorry. I'm a total fraud. But at least I'm an honest fraud, right?

She laughed and said, "Honest fraud? I know I've taught you what an oxymoron is. If that's not bad enough, you've never watched either of the two best movies of all time." She pretended to be distraught and said, "Oh, my goodness. This is all my fault. Your education is so incomplete! We need to address this deficiency right away!"

I was still too dense to pick up on what she was suggesting. I glanced back at the clock and said, "I probably should be going. I didn't mean to keep you up all night. I really enjoyed this."

Michelle said, "It's fine. Really. I haven't slept much the last several weeks so this was not only a lot of fun for me, too, it was also a very welcome relief. So thank you for a very pleasant evening."

We got to the back door and as I was about to open it Mrs. Lloyd said, "Cal? I was just wondering. I mean, if you're free and if you'd be interested...well...I would really enjoy your company again tomorrow. I would love to have someone here to watch Casablanca with. That is, if you can forgive me for making an educational date with you." Her eyebrows were raised letting me know she was sincere and very hopeful I'd say yes.

"Date? Was that intentional or a Freudian slip? And isn't 'educational date' also an oxymoron?"

"Okay, okay. You win this one, too! I surrender. But date or no date, I would really love having you watch it with me. Would you?" She looked so hopeful and so innocent.

"I'd love to," I told her. "Besides, if I don't show up, who's going to hand you tissues when you cry?" 

She recalled me doing that for her in the classroom. Her eyebrows lowered and she once again looked at me like that. She looked down for a moment and then said, "Why do I feel like I'm the girl in high school when I'm with you and you're the older person?"

I have no idea where I got the courage but I reached out and took her hand. She didn't pull back so I said, "I'll throw out another $50-word and ask you if your question rhetorical or not.'"

She replied in the softest, sweetest voice, "Yes. It was rhetorical because I know exactly why you make me feel that way."

Again, I don't know how I look to others. I only know what others tell me. One thing I do know is I'm not tall. I'm only 5'8" (and a half) so with my shoes on I was just two inches taller than Mrs. Lloyd in her stocking feet. Even so, I was looking down at her as our we stared into one another's eyes for several seconds. She broke the silence and said, "I'll do my best not to be quite so schizophrenic when you come back. I really am sorry for being such a ditz tonight. I'm not promising I won't be a little bit schizo..."

I didn't let her finish. I leaned down and kissed her softly on the lips. Her eyes initially opened wide in surprise and then they closed as she kissed me back. It wasn't a long kiss and it certainly wasn't a passionate kiss. It was just a very pleasant kiss tonight.

Our eyes darted back and forth into one another's as she said, "Good night, Cal."

"Good night," I said. 

As I turned to leave she reached out for my arm and said, "Cal? Will you please call me by my first name when we're alone? I know you said you'll never tell anyone about our time together and I believe you. So I also know I can trust you with calling me Michelle, too. Will you?"

I smiled as I opened the door and said, "Of course I will. And thank you. And for the record? You look amazing even in sweats and...jewelry." 

Michelle smiled and even giggled slightly. She kissed me on the cheek and once again said, "You know, if you'd come over around six or so, I could make dinner for us, too. Would that be okay?"

"That would be perfect. I'd like that. Thank you...Michelle."

"Well, good night—again. See you...later today?" I nodded and she let go of my arm. 

As I stepped into the garage, I was greeted by a blast of very cold air. I got in my car and turned the heat up full blast. My head was spinning as I tried to process and relive everything that happened that night. I drove around for a while and got home just before three o'clock and lay in bed for several hours unable to sleep in spite of being completely exhausted. I finally gave in and let myself imagine being with...my...what? Girlfriend? I came very quickly after having had a partial erection the entire day and a hard on the entire time I was with her and finally fell asleep. My last thoughts before I did were, "My God, she's beautiful" and "I can't believe we have another date for tonight."

It was around noon when my mom finally knocked on my door. "Honey? You okay?"

My eyes were completely stuck shut from sleep. I wasn't even sure where I was for a few seconds. My first thought was whether or not last night was real or a dream. The sticky Kleenex on the floor next to my bed answered my question.

"Uh, yeah. I'm awake, Mom. I'll be right out, okay?"

My mother made pancakes for me even though it was lunchtime. She needed to be at work by 2 o'clock but as always, my needs came first. She asked about last night and what Glen and I did and for the first time I could remember, I lied to my mother. "Oh, we played Monopoly for several hours. You know. Just talking and stuff."

"Well that sounds fun. It was well almost 3am when I heard you pull in," she said. There was no judgment in her voice; she was just stating a fact. "So what do you hear from Karen these days? Are you two still dating?"

Karen. I hadn't thought about her since I got my last assignment back with the note from Michelle. "We haven't talked much recently. I guess we're still sort of going out. I don't really know. I mean, I guess it would be okay if she dated other guys at at school."

"That's a very mature attitude. Are you interested in anyone else these days?" she asked as she set three pancakes on my plate. 

"Um, yeah. Well, I guess so. There is this one girl I really like."

"Well maybe you could ask her to come to dinner some night. We'd love to meet her."

I couldn't tell my own mother I was talking about my married English teacher. I only said, "Mom, kids don't do that these days. Besides, we haven't actually even been on a date yet. We just sort of hung out one evening at her place."

"Well, that sounds very nice, dear. Do you like this girl a lot? I guess what I'm asking is do you think Karen would care if you were dating her? Is she as open minded as you regarding these matters?"

I hadn't thought about that. All I cared about was being with Michelle. "I don't know, Mom. As always, you raise a good point. I'll call her today and discuss this with her so we don't have any kind of misunderstanding."

She came over and bent down to hug me. She kissed the top of my head and said, "You are such a good boy. And so handsome!"

"Moooom!" I protested. I actually liked the affection but I wasn't going to admit it. I did have to admit though, that she was right about Karen. I decided the best thing to do was just end the relationship because no matter what happened with Michelle, I really had no interest in a girl that young. I laughed because she was 18 months older than me. Little did I know, she'd be the youngest girl I'd ever date after that as I learned that older women, especially older married women, were far more interesting than anyone my own age. 

I called her that afternoon and although she was hurt and upset, she said she understood. She admitted there was someone she was interested in and that perhaps this was a sign from God that she should pursue it. I told her I thought that was a good idea as I had someone else I wanted to spend time with, too. That was as honest as I cared to be with her. We wished one another well and that was that.

Other than Karen, I had no experience with women. I could tell Michelle was the romantic type but I didn't know how to be romantic. I was running some thoughts through my mind when I decided to do what most kids in high school do for a boyfriend or girlfriend. I made her a mixed-CD of love songs. I knew she was 37 so I just did the math to figure out when she would have been in junior high school through college and picked a dozen or so of the biggest-hit love songs of those times. I was able to fit 14 of them on the disk. I labeled it with a modification of the title of the first song on the disk. I titled it, "To The One I Love" from the song by R.E.M. I hadn't heard most of those songs as they were well before my time, but some of them were pretty nice. I hoped she'd like it.




Creative Writing Ch. 01



We were on Standard Time so it was dark when I arrived at 6pm. There was a note on the door that read, "Hi, handsome! Please come in. I'm making dinner for us for our first...DATE!" There was a large heart with her first name under it.

I opened the door and whatever she was making smelled delicious! I walked down the hallway from the garage toward the kitchen and did the Ricky Ricardo thing by calling out, "Honey? I'm hoooome!"

I stepped into the kitchen and saw Michelle tossing a salad. She looked over at me and said, "Hi, there! Come on in. I'm so glad to see you! Dinner is just about ready."

I didn't move. I couldn't move. I just stood there and stared.

"Hey? You okay?" she said. She sat down her large fork and spoon and walked toward me. "Cal? Are you all right?"

I just kept staring. "Oh, my God," I finally mumbled.

"What is it? Is the smell of the garlic too strong? I didn't even ask if you like lasagna. Is that okay? Cal?"

"You are SO beautiful," I said still mumbling. I was trying to take it all in but it was overwhelming. Her hair was a long, silky blonde cascade of soft waves surrounding her beautiful face. Her makeup was perfect again just like it had been last night but this time she also wore a shiny coat of lip gloss. She was wearing this stunning liquid silver necklace and matching liquid silver earrings along with a beautiful silver bracelet. What really killed me was the unbelievably sexy white, ribbed-knit sweater she wore with a short skirt that was somewhere between tan and khaki in color. Her 3" heels matched the skirt and I noticed a silver anklet on her left leg.

"Cal? Is something wrong?"

I broke out of the haze and said, "Is this what you were wearing last night before you changed?"

She looked down the way she often did before saying quietly, "Yes. Do you like it?"

I moved closer to her and put my hands on her arms. I held the back of them in my palms. "I've never seen anyone or anything so incredibly beautiful before. I still can't believe what I'm seeing."

She moved in closer and said, "Can I take that as a 'yes'?" I just nodded as she slipped her arms around my neck. As she did, I put my arms around her and held her close. We stood there for at least two full minutes just holding one another without saying a word.

Finally, she let go of me and whispered, "Are you hungry?"

I let go of her, too, and said, "Yes. I'm starving. This looks...and smells...wonderful. Did you make this lasagna from scratch?"

"I did," she said proudly. "How can you tell?"

"This is how my mom and my Aunt Jean make it. All of this is...perfect." I was standing behind her with my hand on her shoulder as she was cutting the lasagna into pieces. As she did, I slowly wrapped my arms around her waist and said quietly, "And you are perfect. It may sound silly but I missed you so much today it hurt."

My arms were around her body just below her breasts. She sat the knife down and placed hers on mine and said, "It doesn't sound crazy at all. Unless I'm crazy, too." She turned around and put her arms back around my neck as she said, "Because I missed you like that all day, as well." 

Our eyes were darting back and forth again. I no sooner began moving toward her when she closed her eyes and she hungrily pulled me toward her. We kissed for a very long time. Slowly, passionately. Our tongues dancing with each other's. I felt her push her hips toward me. My cock was fully erect as her her body pushed against it. I heard her gasp and I instinctively pulled back, misreading her reaction.

"I'm so sorry. That just happens sometimes. I didn't mean to..."

"Shhh. It's okay. It's fine," she said. She kissed me again and said, "It was actually very...nice. Don't feel embarrassed with me, okay? About anything." She kissed me one more time and repeated, "Okay?"

"Okay," said. "I'm just so new to all of this. I've only had one girlfriend and one..."

Michelle smiled playfully and said, "So does that mean you're not a virgin anymore?"

I felt the beginnings of a blush coming on but mercifully it didn't spread. "No. I'm not a virgin. But I just feel so...inadequate...with you. You're so unbelievably beautiful, Michelle and I'm just this...this kid."

"You're not inadequate, Cal. I promise you that. And you may be 18 but you are definitely no kid. You're nothing like any kid I've ever known. I'm just so glad you're here with me. Now, let me get dinner for us, okay?" We kissed one more time then I sat down as Michelle sat down the salad, the rolls, and the lasagna."

"Bon appetite!" she said as we each took a first bite. I wanted to taste the lasagna before I ate my salad so I told her it would just be one tiny little bite.

"Oh, my goodness! This is perfect!" I told her. 

"Really?" she asked hopefully.

"Oh, definitely. This is amazing."

After we'd each had a couple bites of salad Michelle asked, "Do you drink wine by any chance?"

"I've never tried it. I've never tried any alcohol because of my dad." I explained his drinking and the effect it had on our lives.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know. That's okay. We can just have iced tea."

"No, that's ridiculous. If you'd like a glass of wine, please have one. In fact, I insist."

"No, thank you," she said sweetly. "I don't like drinking alone. I just thought it might be nice to have a glass with dinner."

"Then a glass we shall have," I announced. "Where is it?"

"No! Seriously, we don't need wine. This will be just fine. Let's just enjoy dinner and forget I mentioned it, okay?"

She looked so...fragile. I stood up and walked around to her end of the table and knelt next to her. "There aren't many things I can give to you. So anytime there's an opportunity for me to do something for you, please let me do it, okay?" I said. 

I reached for her hand and she gave it to me. I kissed it and asked her again where to find it. She told me where it was along with the glasses. I poured us each a little less than half a glass and set hers on the table. As I did, she took my hand and said, "Hey. Come here." I bent down and was rewarded with a long, soft kiss. "Thank you. This is very sweet of you." 

I kissed her back then offered my glass along with a toast. "To new friends." She repeated the toast and we both took a sip.

"That's not bad," I said. I actually hated the taste but wasn't going to tell her that.

We made small talk throughout dinner and I helped her clear the table after even though she insisted we leave things where they were. 

As we were loading the dishwasher, she came up from behind me the way I had done to her earlier. "Hey there. Turn around."

I did as she asked and she said, "Is my breath okay?" She kissed me long and slow after she asked.

I told her, "If it wasn't it wouldn't matter if I could kiss you like that all night."

She smiled that dazzling smile and said sweetly, "That could be arranged. I was just worried about the garlic but then I realized you'd be garlicky, too."

I pulled her close and said, "Shame on you. That was just a ruse to kiss your handsome young boyfriend."

Her reaction made me think I'd made a big mistake. It was only momentary but it worried me. "I'm sorry. Was that too much?" I asked her.

I saw a tear form in her eyes and I was sure I'd blown it in a big way. "I didn't mean it like that, Michelle. All I meant was..."

"I'm so happy," she said. She sniffed and said, "Where are you with the tissues when I need them?"

I looked around but there were none. Besides, she wasn't letting go of me. She moved in very close and said, "What kind of boyfriend are you if you can't even get your girlfriend a tissue when she needs it?"

I kissed her and said, "Is that a rhetorical question?"

Her hand was on the back of my head stroking my hair. "You are so handsome. Did you know that? I have the biggest crush on you, Cal. Did you know that? And I want you to be my boyfriend more than anything in the world." She kissed me and asked, "Did you know that, too?"

We went back into the living room and sat in front of the television. I poured Michelle another glass of merlot and brought mine with me. We sat down on the sofa and she snuggled up next to me. I kissed the top of her head as I put my arm around her. "I have something for you," I said.

She sat up and said, "You do not!"

"Wait right here," I said. I got up and removed the CD from my jacket's inside pocket. I sat back down next to her and handed it to her. "This is the kind of presents poor boys give their girlfriends."

Michelle took it and clutched it to her chest. "This is the nicest thing anyone's ever given me. Thank you." I could see tears forming in her eyes again. She blinked then looked at the title and sat it down. Tears were falling onto her cheeks.

I grabbed some tissue and said, "At least I'm good at something."

She let me dab her eyes even as hers never looked away from mine. Before I could finish she took my hand and stopped me and said, "Do you really love me?"

I finished wiping off the last of the salty tears she'd cried and said, "Yes. I've loved you for two years now."

She blinked several times then said, "I'm going to put this in the CD player. And then we're going to dance, okay?" She kissed me before I helped her stand up.

A few moments later I heard the first chords of the title song ring out. "Come here, handsome boyfriend," she said. She was holding her hand out to me as I walked toward her.

Our arms slipped around one another immediately and we held each other more than we danced. For the next 45 minutes or so we just turned in a small circle while holding and caressing one another. There was a lot of kissing, too, but mostly it was just two lonely people holding on to something they knew couldn't last forever.

She looked at the clock as the last song ended and whispered to me, "It's only 8:00. We don't have to watch the movie right now if you don't mind waiting." 

I was so stunned by what she said it took me a while to process it. As my brain went into high gear to try and make sense of her comment she moved in close and pushed her hips against my crotch until she made contact with my raging hard on again. Her cheek was next to mine as she pressed against me. "Mmmm. That's what I'd rather have than the movie. Would you mind sharing that with your girlfriend? Please?" She was nibbling my ear and I worried I might embarrass myself by coming in my jeans like I'd done with Karen that first time. I was grateful I'd jerked off just over 12 hours ago. Had I not...

I put my left arm around her back and my reached down and scooped her up with my right arm. "Oooh!" she yelped.

"That way," she indicated by nodding her head toward the back of the house. We entered a long hallway and she nodded toward the first bedroom on our left. It wasn't the master and later I would understand why. That was the room that reminded her of her husband, their marriage, and all the hurt and pain she felt. This would be our room where only the two of us would ever make love.

I sat her gently on the bed and kissed her as I did. She reached out and began unbuttoning my shirt. "Can we go slow?" she whispered. "I want to tell you that as excited as I am, I'm also very nervous. I'm even a little bit afraid. Not of you, of course. I'm just in such unfamiliar territory and I'm normally so in control of my life. But when I'm around you, I'm just so...out of control."

"Of course we can go slow. And I'm glad you're not afraid of me. I would never hurt you," I told her.

"I know that, Cal. I trust you completely. This wouldn't be possible without that kind of trust. Betraying it would be the worst kind of hurt imaginable."

"There's no need to imagine that because I could never betray you. Ever."

She reached up and undid one button followed by a long kiss. Another button, another long kiss. Once my shirt was off Michelle sat back and said, "Oh, my God! You are so beautiful." Her eyes scanned my body from my traps to my abs. By this time I had very good definition everywhere. She ran her hands along my chest and down my stomach. "I've been dreaming about this all week," she told me. "And it's even better than I imagined. You're so young and so smooth and so hard and so...yummy." I smiled when she said that. She must have taken that to mean I didn't believe her as she said, "You are! You look so delicious to me. I just want to...everything you." 

I pushed her down on the bed and climbed on top of her. "Mmmm. I love that," she said. "I like when the man is in charge." Her hands were all over my naked upper body as we kissed. 

I reached for her beautiful, soft breast with one hand. As I cupped it, Michelle gasped. "Oh, God! Ohhhh!! That feels so good, sweetheart," she said.

I was so turned on by that word I had to force myself to think about a woman who liked Roseanne Barr and even then, it was so hard not to cum. I finally got the urge under control and said, "Please call me that again."

"What? Sweetheart?" she moaned. She took my hand and held it on top of her breast as I squeezed and rolled it. "Mmmm. That feels so good, sweetheart. I love it when you do that for me."

I reached down and fumbled for the zipper on her skirt. "Let me get it, okay?" she said softly. She raised up, unzipped it and we pulled it down and off of her. 

I slid my hand down her tummy and onto her mound. I palmed it at first pressing hard as I did. "Oh, my God!" Michelle moaned. "Please don't stop! That feels so, so good!"

I pressed the fabric of her panties into her pussy as I rubbed her clit. Michelle gasped and moaned. I slid my finger inside the waistband. She lifted up and helped me pull them down. She kicked them off onto the floor leaving her in her stockings, heels, and sweater.

"Do you want me to leave this on for you, sweetheart?" she asked referring to her sweater.

"Would that be okay?" I asked as I continued to stroke her clit.

"Anything you want is okay. Anything." She was breathing hard as she said, "But I like it better when you don't ask. Just take what you want from me, okay? I'm yours and you can take whatever you want."

I slipped first one and the two fingers into her wet pussy. Michelle screamed in delight. "Oh, fffuck! Oh, my God... That feels so amazing. Don't stop, honey. Please, please don't stop!"

The cursing turned me on like nothing else. When I told her how much I liked it, she didn't laugh or poke fun. She just moaned and said, "I'd love to do that for you, sweetheart."

She reached down indicating she wanted my belt buckle. I lifted up so she could undo it and then get my jeans and underwear off. Once the pants were gone, she could see the enormous bulge in my briefs. She reached down and stroked it through the cotton material. While looking into my eyes she said softly, "Oh, my fucking God. I love your cock, honey." Michelle never, ever took control with me. She never once made me feel like she was the older, more experienced woman teaching her 'hot, young stud' a lesson about love and life. She was sweet and gentle but very passionate. She was emotionally and sexually starved and I somehow managed to come along at what was for her, the perfect time.

She stripped my underwear off and as soon as they were gone, she got on top of me taking my cock in her right hand then lowering her mouth onto it. "Mmmmmm," she moaned as she took me into her mouth for the first time. "I fucking love your beautiful cock, sweetheart."

I had to warn her to take it easy; that I was already getting very close. She understood completely as I pushed her on her back and dropped down between her legs. I had only gone down on Karen a few times but I had a fairly good idea what I was doing. I knew the clit was more important than the pussy and that's where I focused my attention.

Michelle was propped up on some big pillows so she could watch as I licked and swirled and pleased. Her hand was on the back of my head. I looked up briefly and saw her biting her lower lip. "Oh, fffuck! That feels so...good! Oh, Jesus. Oh, my God. Oh...fuck!"

"That feels so good! I haven't had this in...years," she gasped. "I love this so much. Oh, God! That feels SO good! Yes, yes, yes. Oh, my fucking God!!"

I felt her body tense then shudder—hard. I knew Karen could cum more than once but I didn't know all women could do that. 

"Don't stop, sweetheart," she said. "I can cum again another time or two, okay?"

I kept licking and finger fucking her until she managed to say while panting, "Uh, uh. No more of that, okay? That feels amazing but I want something more than your tongue or your fingers inside me. Come up here and make love to me. Please? I need you so badly I can't wait any longer."

I held myself above her in a kind of push-up position using my elbows. Michelle kissed me hungrily as she reached down for my cock. She lined it up and said, "Take me, sweetheart. Oh, God. Please, please take me."

I slid inside her and although it felt exactly like it had with Karen, this was just so different for me because this was the woman I...loved. Or at least, at that time, I thought I loved. I kissed her as I slid deep inside her body. Michelle broke our kiss not because she didn't want it but because she couldn't breath. She was gasping for breath as I began fucking her. Slowly at first. She moaned as I pulled back and gasped as I drove it home.

I picked up the pace and began hammering her harder and harder. I has hitting her body hard enough that it made her words break up. "Oh...my...fuck..ing GO—OD!! Oh, fuck!...Fuck...me, oh FUCK ME!!" 

I drilled her as hard as I could even as I lifted up to try and hit her clit with my cock. I felt her tense again and then literally scream so loud it almost frightened me. "OH MY FUCKING GOD!! FUCK ME! FUCK ME! FUCK...ME!!"

I wasn't wearing a condom so as I felt myself starting to cum I began to pull out. Michelle was in the middle of her orgasm and she grunted, "I'm on the pill. Don't...you...DARE! I want you inside me so...fucking bad!"

She pulled my shoulders in tight and held me forcing to cum in her pussy. I bucked and jerked and grunted and shot stream after stream after stream of cum inside her. Both of us were panting like dogs when I collapsed on top of her.

Michelle was holding me so hard even now and I wondered if she was okay. I lifted up and saw her crying again. "What's wrong, honey?" I asked her. I began stroking her hair as she just sobbed. 

She shook her head. "Nothing is wrong. Nothing at all. I'm just so...so...overwhelmed with emotion and feelings and things I haven't experienced in so long." She asked me for tissue and that made us both laugh which lightened the mood.

She blew her nose and apologized for being so unromantic. "It's just that I thought I'd never feel this way again. Ever. And then there was this. And you. And...us. And..." She turned her head to bury it into a pillow as she began crying again.

I was so uncomfortable I had no idea what to do. I just lay beside her and put my arm around her. I stroked her hair and just blurted out, "I love you."

She turned over and her eyes were a mess of tears and mascara. She said, "I know I look like a mess. I'm sorry. But you don't have to say that. I know you don't really love me and that's okay. I just want to us to be together. Whenever we can. That's more than enough for me, Cal. This is more than I ever imagined I would have again. So really, you don't need to tell me that."

I stroked her hair and said, "But what if that's how I feel?"

She laid her head on chest and said, "I won't tell you you're too young to know what you feel. That would be patronizing and condescending. I just don't want you to confuse what we have with real love. I don't want you to be hurt or think I can offer you more than I can."

"I know you're not going to leave your husband. I understand this isn't that kind of love. But I also know this isn't just sex. I had that with Karen and it was...nice. But this. This is different. This is...amazing."




Creative Writing Ch. 01



"Yes, it is amazing," she said as she ran her hand up and down my chest and stomach. "My biggest fear was that you'd fall in love with me in the way you understand we can't have. That scared because as badly as I wanted this, I couldn't bear to hurt you like that. I'm just so relieved you understand the difference."

"I do," I assured her. "Whatever this is, it's ours. It doesn't have to 'go somewhere.' Let's just let it be whatever it wants to be and go wherever it can go. No regrets. No complaints."

"You really are the older one in this relationship. I feel so lucky and so...happy. And so...loved." She looked up at me and said, "Cal? I love you, too. At least in the only way I can love you in a relationship like this. And my heart is already breaking because I know this can't be forever." She began crying again but softly this time.

"Shhh. It's okay," I told her. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Right now, we have a movie to watch and I have tissue to hand to you."

Michelle sat up and smiled. "And I need to clean up this mess of a face and look pretty for you again."

I sat up and kissed her and held her face in my hands. "Hey. You look pretty to me right here, right now. You don't need to wash up or do anything. YOU are beautiful. The makeup and the clothes are just accessories. I love—you, Michelle. You."

As the movie ended we squeezed one another's hands when Bogart said, "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship." 

It was almost 11 o'clock. Michelle sat up and said, "Would it be possible to get my handsome young boyfriend to make love to me again tonight?"

I kissed and assured her it was as I took her hand and led her back to our bedroom where we spent the next two hours exploring one another's bodies the way only two new lovers can.

I've never forgotten those first two nights together. I saw in my teacher/lover's eyes passion and hope and yes, love—whatever that meant between a lonely married woman and student who had a hopeless crush on her. And I saw it every time we were together until I too, abandoned her the next summer when I joined the Marine Corps to escape my little home town and make a better life for myself—the GI Bill, college, an engineering degree. That was my way ahead. 

The most hurtful words I'd ever heard had been those of the cheerleader who asked me to kiss her for all the wrong reasons. That is, until Michelle said, "Why is it every man I love leaves me?" when I told her I was enlisting. She knew the relationship had to end at some point. She just wasn't ready for it as soon as I needed it to end.

Creative writing was a one-semester course so mercifully, I wasn't in her class the rest of the school year. We had quite a few more rendezvous after Christmas and until shortly after graduation. We spent most of our time alone in her home but we did manage to get away for an evening in another town several times and we also spent a weekend together on two occasions. We even ventured out for dinner together in Portland, Oregon during one of them. I was never more proud than when someone referred to her as my wife. In another life, maybe it could have been so but that's very unlikely as I found being faithful impossible and even while I was secretly dating Michelle, I had an affair with another married woman who was a Mormon. I met her through Glen when she was looking for someone to do fence repairs. Her husband was an airline pilot who, like Hugh Lloyd, was always gone and when he was home, wasn't emotionally available. I wrote about that experience in a story called Bagging Lauren. 

I later married a girl (she was less than ten years older than me) I met in South Carolina during my last assignment on active duty. She was a bad girl living in a good girl's body. It took several years but I helped her find herself. As fun as that was, it ultimately led to our divorce. I also recently wrote about our shared experiences in a story I called Making Changes.

Michelle and I never contacted one another after I left small my hometown near Seattle although I would occasionally ask about her when I spoke with Glen via email a time or two each year. She's still teaching and I've wondered many times whether or not there was another young lover in her life like me. Something told me 'no' but then again, loneliness is a powerful motivator.

Over the years, I've thought of her thousands of times and I know she's done the same about me. I've never once regretted loving her and I'm quite sure she doesn't regret loving me. In fact, the last thing she told before I kissed her goodbye that final time was, "I don't regret a single minute of our time together and a part of me will always love you." I then told her we not only had nothing to be ashamed of but that we'd both created many beautiful memories that would last a lifetime. I still feel that way and I can't help but think she's does, too.