ISBN: 978-0-9876894-5-0
Smashwords Edition
Editors: Sheldon Cohen/Penny Peterssen/Gina Kincade
Artwork by Shane Willis, RAD ACT Photography
Published by: Naughty Nights Press (NNP)
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CHAPTER ONE
Catherine Stone looked around the amusement park and rides but saw nothing unusual. It was the end of another hot and humid day in Maryland during the summer of 1983. The sun had set behind the trees, casting shadows across the park hiding the car she sat in to some extent. Catherine wished it were a bit darker outside, because she was in constant fear of getting caught, but it was a hot June evening, so that was too much to ask for. Besides, the possibility of getting caught thrilled her, made the encounter all the more exciting for her. Every horn blowing and car pulling in made her hair stand on end. Will this be the cop who pulls us over? Can we get away with me sucking him off here yet again?
She unzipped Brian's trousers, and slipped her hand inside. Reaching into his briefs, her fingers wrapped around his growing cock and it jumped at her touch. Brian is so predictable. All he ever wants is for me to suck his cock. Good thing I demand a good, expensive meal after these trysts, or I'd get nothing out of them. She pulled his cock out of his trousers, feeling the organ spread out in her palm.
“Oh, that feels good. I love it when you stroke me off.”
She stroked his shaft, gripping him harder as her hand reached the base. Every time she squeezed, his cock jumped in her hand. She liked the way it looked and felt in her hand. Purple with arousal and thick with veins, the well-formed head glistened with pre-cum. In her years since starting college she had enjoyed many different types of cocks and Brian's was especially hot because it was so big and he was uncircumcised. She liked the look of hard cocks. When they were hard they were so sensitive. A twist a little too far this way or that way could hurt, yet she knew from what past lovers had told her, the pain felt so good. She liked pulling Brian's cock too far; just to get a painful, yet aroused reaction out of him. Although she felt impatient, she relished the fact that she was a good lay. Her blowjob skills had improved greatly over the months, and she could also make Brian come very quickly with her hand jobs.
As she gently rolled back his foreskin and stroked his growing shaft, she cradled his balls in her other hand. She liked the way his cock grew to nearly twice its size, when all she did was brush her fingers against it. It felt hard yet sinewy, like a garden hose full of water. She enjoyed the effect she had on him, and she relished her power. Sex was a heady power surge, and Catherine could not get enough of it.
Brian's cock was big; longer and thicker than other cocks she had the pleasure of sucking and fucking. Plus, at his age of fifty-eight, he stayed harder for a longer time, and it took him much longer to come than men her own age of twenty-two. Catherine never faked orgasms. She liked sex so much that she had no trouble coming every time she fucked. When she didn't feel like coming, she simply said so. Faking an orgasm was something she never even considered doing.
Tonight was one night, however, that she wished Brian would hurry up, come, and get it over with. She hated their trysts at the park because she got little if anything out of them. She would much rather stay in a nice hotel and spend the evening fucking without feeling any pressure, but that was not to be this evening. She needed to be at Silver Spring College in the morning for her new summer job. So here she sat, sexually unsatisfied and feeling a bit used wondering when she was going to meet a man who could satisfy her insatiable sexual needs.
Little did she know that several men, including a father and son, would please her over the upcoming summer weeks, including one man who was her match.
“Yes, stroke it, Baby. Go slowly.”
“Don't call me 'Baby'.” She hated it when he called her 'baby'. It made her feel like she was his property. “Baby” was also what her father called her mother when he was trying to excuse his extramarital affairs. He'd say, “I'm sorry, Baby,” when all he was sorry for was getting caught, not the actual affairs themselves. Catherine wondered if she saw married men because of the way her father treated her mother. At least with a married man, he couldn't force her to be exclusive. She didn't have to make a commitment to a married man or get too emotionally invested. She was interested in the sex more than the relationship. Whenever Brian called her “Baby”, he reminded her of why she saw married men and that made her feel uncomfortable. She preferred to be called “Honey” which sounded more affectionate. She'd even accept “Hon”, which was a popular term of endearment in her native Baltimore but Brian was from New York. She hated “Baby” because it sounded so crude to her. Her roommate's obnoxious boyfriend called her “Baby” when he was lying to her, so the word left a bad taste in Catherine's mouth.
“Slow down. Don't pump at it like that.”
I'll pump it any way I want. What if a cop drives up? We certainly can't explain ourselves to a Man in Blue. She stroked his cock gently, moving her palm up and down his shaft. His cock jumped in her hand. Rubbing her thumb across his head and then giving him a gentle squeeze, she heard him moan. Jizz leaked out and dribbled on the head, and she spread it with her fingers as if it were lubricant for her moist and hot hand. She curled against his chest, and pressed her ear against his rib cage. His heart thundered in his chest, as it always did when she beat him off. He loved a good hand job, and she really didn't mind turning him on so much, because turning him on made her feel sexy. No other woman turned him on the way she did. Not even his wife. But impatience overtook her mood this evening, and she wanted to do other things, like eat. Her stomach growled. She was famished, and all she could think about was a good steak dinner at their favorite restaurant. After he comes, we'll go out for something to eat. And he's going to come soon; by the way his cock feels right now.
“Suck on it. I love it when you suck on it.”
Of course he loved it. She honed her technique on him, and being that she was alone with him in his Mercedes, she decided to pass the time by practicing a bit more. His wife wouldn't go down on him, so she made sure she was the best suck he ever had. And she was.
After moistening her lips with her tongue, she pressed her soft lips against the head of his cock, tasting the salty jizz that had leaked out of his hole. Her tongue flicked across his head quickly, and she heard his heart bang in her ears as she rested her head against his stomach. Relaxing her throat, she took in all of his cock until the head rested in the back of her throat. She had taught herself to relax her throat enough to calm her gag reflex, so when she took in his cock, she took in all of it. His hips bucked as she flicked her tongue over his shaft, this way and that, feeling him grow harder and harder. That was her butterfly technique, and he loved it when she flicked along his shaft with her tongue.
Her first blowjobs were rather vapid things, licking up and down a man's shaft and taking him in her mouth without much spirit in the act. After reading the Kama Sutra and getting helpful tips from her Cosmopolitan magazine subscription, she learned various techniques that drove men mad, such as the “Butterfly Lick” and “The Sidewinder”. Apparently the women her men saw when Catherine wasn't around didn't do their cock's justice the way she did. The first time she tried the “Butterfly Lick” on Brian he thought she learned it from another man and he became insanely jealous. The thing was she had learned it from another man who recognized what she was doing when she went down on him. He helped her improve her technique so by the time she tried it on Brian she was a Blow Job Goddess.
She pulled his balls out of his briefs, and rolled each ball between her fingers. His balls tightened in her hand as she stroked them, moving closer to his body and tightening. He's very horny. He'll come soon. As soon as his balls are tight against his groin, that means he'll shoot his wad. She relaxed the muscles in her neck so that she would not cramp. Slowly, she moved her head up and down as her tongue and lips worked their magic on his hard shaft. When his cock was completely inside her mouth, she sucked hard, using her index finger and thumb as a tight cock ring squeezing him at the base. His cock jumped in her mouth, begging for harder sucking, and she complied. Her tongue and inner cheeks stroked the length of his hard cock, sucking and licking, while his jizz leaked out. She swallowed, tasting the salty and sour taste of him.
She felt his fingers massage her scalp through her short-cropped hair. As his cock jumped, he shoved her head against him, and his cock thrust into the back of her throat, setting off her gag reflex. No, don't gag on him! Relax! He took me by surprise by grasping my head like that. But she knew what he wanted – more deep throat action. She relaxed her throat, and took all of him in, a little at a time so that she wouldn't gag. He moaned, and relaxed his grip on her head. At first slowly, she stroked his cock with her mouth, and then she sucked harder and moved her head back and forth much faster. His heart lurched in his chest. As she fondled his balls, she felt them crawl against his groin, meaning he was very close. She sucked harder, flicked her tongue against him very quickly, and thrust him towards the back of her throat. When her tongue flicked and sucked at his head that was all it took.
She felt the vein at the base of his cock extend and throb as his jizz shot down her throat. When he came, his cock was all the way in her mouth, so his cum shot towards the back of her throat. She tasted little of it since most of it was not in the front of her mouth. His entire body went rigid, his heart thundered in his chest, and his hands tightened against her head, holding her down against his throbbing cock. In a few moments, he relaxed, spent after she gave him yet another one of his monumental orgasms.
Exhausted, since what she had done took work, she sat up in the passenger seat and leaned against the window. The glass felt cool against her skin. She felt tired and hungry, and now she was to be rewarded for the sexy gift she gave him. While she often grew impatient during their trysts at the park, since Brian got off but she didn't, those trysts were always followed by a good meal. Sucking him off always made her hungry for reasons she never understood. Her appetite had increased since sucking him off today. Payment would be rendered quickly enough. And she refused any hint of fast food. After sucking him off, she deserved better than a cheeseburger, fries, and a cola. She wanted real food and some good liquor.
Was she a prostitute? No, she wasn't. Although she could get aggravated with Brian, she liked going down on him. She practiced her technique on his eager cock so that she would be at her peak performance with other, more interesting men. And she always ended these trysts with a sumptuous dinner. If that made her a whore in some people eyes, it was their problem, not hers. She enjoyed her trysts and made the most of them.
“So, I take it you are satisfied?” Catherine massaged the back of her neck, which had cramped while she gave him the blowjob to end all blowjobs.
“You get better every time you blow me. I love it when you go down on me. I wish you would do that more often.”
“I will if I get something out of it. You know me – opportunistic to the core.” She laughed. She knew that her sexuality and alluring good looks were quite the commodity, and she knew how to use them to her advantage.
Her stomach growled so loudly that she heard it. Embarrassed, she curled her hands into her stomach.
“Wow, you really are hungry! Are you ready for Richardson's?”
“I thought you'd never ask. I'm wasting away over here, giving you blow jobs on an empty stomach.” She knew he'd take the hint.
“Your food appetite is as insatiable as your sex appetite. Neither is easy to feed.”
“So let's head to Richardson's. I'm ready for T-bone and a bottle of Pinot Noir.” Good, Richardsons – a family restaurant that served the best steaks in the area as well as the best vegetarian lasagna, and homemade pies to die for.
“I love your appetite, although I wish you'd eat less red meat.”
“I'm not a vegetarian like you. I like my meals red and bloody.” She never understood the appeal of vegetarianism. Brian's vegetarian meals seemed to suck the taste out of good food. Some of her friends at Quincy College were vegetarian for political reasons, and she figured that was fine, as long as they didn't force their political views down her throat. She saw nothing wrong with eating beef, pork, and chicken since human beings were omnivores. They ate both meat and plant food. Besides, weren't plants alive? Why not protest the dying cries of a carrot as it was dragged kicking and screaming out of the ground?
Brian was one of the people who liked to lecture her about being a heavy-duty meat eater. “You liked my vegetarian lasagna. I really wish you would not eat so much red meat. It's bad for you. It leads to cancer.” Ah, that lie again. I'm not even going to address it. His vegetarian lasagna was good – she couldn't deny that – and his vegetarian diet even made his jizz taste sweet. Meat eating men had semen that tasted bitter. The sweet-tasting jizz was the only upside of being a vegetarian as far as she could see, obviously because she personally benefited from it. However, she refused to give up her red meat and poultry because she enjoyed the taste of it so much.
“I also like prime rib bleeding all over my plate. If I had a choice, I'd choose the dead cow.”
“That's what I love about you. You never hold back. You truly are insatiable!”
That was his favorite description of her – insatiable. Her appetites were never completely filled, whether it was for a rare steak, pink as a fresh wound or for a hot fuck session. Especially the hot fuck session. Catherine could go for hours, through the night, but Brian could not keep up with her. He complained that his wife was not as interested in sex as he was, and that she didn't like to experiment, but his problem with Catherine was that she was the opposite extreme. Every time they fucked, she nearly sucked the life force out of him, whether with her mouth, or with her pussy, or – especially fine – with her tempting ass. His wife never wanted anal sex because she said it hurt. That made sense to Catherine since Brian was larger than the average man – something she told him, but he never seemed to understand the implication behind that admission, which was that she fucked men other than him. He sometimes questioned her exploits when he felt insecure, but she fucked him so well that he didn't often complain. And he had no right to complain, since he was married. No married man had a right to pigeonhole her or force her to be exclusive, since he was not exclusive. She liked it that way. A free spirit, Catherine Stone did not like to be pinned down by any man. She wanted to play the field, and that was exactly what she did.
Catherine was glad that Richardson's had a relaxed dress code. Most of the fancier restaurants required a suit and tie on men and a dress on a woman, but Richardson's accepted more casual clothing. Brian always wore trousers and polo shirts while Catherine dressed in blouses with no bra and long, flowing paisley skirts when she went out for an evening of blow jobs, good food, good drink, and dancing. After fantasizing about a T-bone dinner all day long, Catherine's mouth drooled as the hot plate of Angus and roasted potatoes appeared in front of her. She inhaled, taking in the heady scent of cooked meat and savory herbs. The waiter opened their bottle of Pinot Noir and poured a small amount into her wine glass. She sipped, nodded her head to let the waiter know that the wine was delicious, and he filled their glasses. Catherine sipped her wine as she looked around the restaurant. It was filled up at eight, which was to be expected for a busy Friday night. She knew no one, which was a good thing. She already had an excuse ready in case one of Brian's many friends walked up to their table on a chance of being caught. If there was another good thing about Catherine Stone, it was that she was a quick thinker who had great skill at getting herself out of a sticky situation.
“I wish you would stay overnight with me. The Woodside Inn is just up the road. I don't see why you can't stay with me.”
She had already discussed with him several times why she could not spend the night with him and she was irritated at having to address the issue again. “I have to be at Silver Spring College at eight in the morning, so I don't want to be up all night. I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow.” The truth was she could have spent the night with him but she didn't want to. She wanted her alone time to prepare for her summer job and Brian simply could not understand her need to be alone. Once again, she felt miffed at his selfishness driving their relationship. Was a good fuck and hot meal worth the aggravation?
“But you'll be gone for two weeks. When am I going to see you again?”
“You'll be so busy with your painting that you won't miss me. I don't know when we can meet again. Give me a chance to get used to the job, and then I can get some time off.”
“I really wish you weren't going away. I don't like not knowing what you're going to be doing.”
“I don't like not knowing what I'm going to be doing, either. Besides, how can you spend every waking moment with me? What would Shannon say? It's easier for us to steal some time during the day when classes are in session. When you aren't teaching a painting class, we steal away to a motel or here or the park. The only reason you're able to get away for a night is that Shannon works in Washington D. C. I guess being an assistant at an art gallery takes so much time that she had to rent her own room down there.” Shannon was Brian's wife, a former student who worked at an art gallery in Washington, D. C. She rented a flat in Georgetown when she worked weekends at the gallery and, since she didn't have a car, a work colleague drove her down. She was mostly not present at home on weekends, which made Catherine's affair with her husband much easier. Shannon knew how Brian flaunted his affair on campus at Quincy and she often rode his back about it but mostly they danced around Catherine, which suited her fine. As long as she was left out of their family drama, she was happy.
“Yes, I know that's why it's easy for me to get away. She's gone every weekend.”
What kind of marriage was that? If you're going to be away that much, it's no wonder your husband would stray. Catherine thought that Shannon had no one to blame but herself when Brian cheated on her. Why in God's name would Catherine date a married man? The main reason was that she preferred dating men about fifteen to twenty years older than she was, and many of those men turned out by chance to be married. She dated men her own age and found them to be very immature and selfish in bed, never trying to please her or even attend to her needs. Older men went out of their way to sexually please her, and although Brian had his selfish qualities he did often please her sexually. She was in the relationship strictly for the sex and not to take him from his wife. She knew damned well that since he cheated on Shannon so easily that if they split and Catherine ended up with him that he'd likely cheat on her. She didn't want to get involved with a man who cheated on her if she made a commitment to him. She realized how her opinion left her with a scorching case of cognitive dissonance but she knew she'd eventually work her way through her penchant for dating older men who were often married. It was the “older” quality she liked, not the “married” quality. More often than not, those men who interested her wore wedding rings on their fingers. Luck of the draw.
“It's almost like being divorced after, what? Eight years of marriage?”
“Let's not talk about that. She keeps bringing up divorce as long as I see you.”
“Leave me out of that. You two have your own problems. Just don't have me named in any lawsuits.”
“I'm keeping her calm. She won't file, and I'll make sure she leaves you out of any problems between us. So, why can't you stay with me tonight?”
She grew tired of repeating her explanation. He would never be satisfied that she was going to spend two weeks away from him as part of a summer job. She needed the money to pay for college tuition. Then there was the hope that she would meet an interesting man. Catherine would never turn down an enticing and sexy man who caught her attention. And she knew exactly how to attract him.
The meal was as delicious as she expected it would be. Never one to wolf down her food, she savored every luscious bite. The T-bone was tender and sweetly delicious, with a hint of garlic and sage. She sipped her wine and a gin and tonic on the side, enjoying the heady taste of juniper in the drink. Richardson's stocked Tanqueray Ten, which was a step up from most gins she found at college dorm parties. She also preferred Schweppes tonic water to more generic tonic water because it had a stronger quinine taste. Those two brands made a fabulous gin and tonic, and Catherine demanded only the best.
Once they finished their meal, Brian drove Catherine back to her dorm room at Quincy College, a women's college in the mountains about forty miles north of Washington, D. C. where he also taught. He dropped her off in front of her dorm; something he never did during the school year, lest they be caught. Seeing her on the sly not only violated his marriage vows, it violated the college's moral turpitude clause that forbade professors from dating and otherwise fucking their students. Catherine was never intimidated by silly college rules about who she was allowed to fuck. Quincy's brother college was the Rothchild Military Academy, and she despised the immature boys who came to visit during weekend mixers. The guys played a game where they competed against each other to bed the most Quincy girls in one weekend. Thankfully older Quincy girls had warned Catherine about that game, before she became a frat boy statistic.
She preferred her men older, seasoned, with some wealth and prestige, and college professors suited her just fine. Brian was the chairman of the art department as well as Catherine's academic advisor. She thought he was a lousy advisor, since he was mainly interested in fucking her rather than helping her in her artistic career, but she relied on professors in other departments for academic help. She had decided that she would abandon him as her advisor in the fall and request the head of the English department instead. A woman who would look out for her career and much better fit for Catherine’s future. . The two of them hit it off very well and Catherine looked forward to working with a professor who actually had her career interests at heart. Brian was for fucking and fucking only.
Besides, she wanted to fuck Brian as much as he wanted to fuck her. She liked the prestige of attracting not only a well-off older man, but he was also the chairman of his department with tenure. The college couldn't fire him the way it fired her previous lover, a communications instructor. Steve was a loser anyway, and she was glad she left him for Brian. Once he was fired and had to get a job as a salesman to pay his bills, she lost interest. Brian catered to her much more than Steve ever did. Steve was no longer an enticing catch, so she homed in on Brian, who was a better catch in the long run. Her criteria for a man were what could he get and do for her? She figured that if a man expected her to fuck him, she might as well get something good out of the relationship. Lots of people would think that meant she was a prostitute, but she didn't see it that way. There was always give-and-take in relationships, especially if sex was commonplace, and she only expected her payment to be front-loaded now rather than later. She was not interested in getting married or going steady with only one guy. She wanted to play the field, enjoy hot fuck sessions, and live the high life. Of course she had tender feelings for the men she fucked and spent time with, but she was not interested in falling in love or finding a soul mate. She wanted to have fun.
But Catherine had a short attention span. She tired of Brian's demands of her time and his jealousy whenever she showed interest in other men, which was often. After all, she was young, sexy, and single, and he had no right to force her to be exclusive with him. She was now on the prowl for fresher meat, a man or men who would awaken her pent-up sexual emotions. She wanted a Shiny New Lover, and she hoped to find one – or many – in the upcoming weeks.
Brian dropped her off at her dorm, growing a bit weepy as she pulled away from him. His clinginess was very unattractive, and it turned her off. She knew it wasn't love or even affection. She rebuffed his possessiveness. Possessiveness was one quality she noticed in men who wanted her to be exclusive to them. How many women had mistaken possessiveness for love? Sure, it was very flattering to watch a man you're involved with steam at the ears when you show more than passing attention to another man, even as little as clearly enjoying a private conversation with him. But that was not love or even fondness. It was “I marked her with my spunk or gifts or attention, and she's mine. Hands off!” As if she had no say in the arrangement.
Possessiveness of that sort might start out feeling good – he must love me because he gets so jealous – but she knew it could easily turn into abuse. Some of her high school girlfriends had been in abusive relationships, and she vowed that she would never be in one. No man had the right to treat her like she was property, and she didn't like it when Brian sulked. She wanted some space.
Finally away from his incessant grabbing once she was safely inside her room, she called Angela, another Quincy student who would join her at the camp. Since Catherine did not own a car, nor did she know how to drive one, she was going to ride with Angela. Angela drove her mother's van, in which they packed two week's worth of clothing, their TVs, LP turntables, and a few other odds and ends. They weren't friends, they fell into different circles, and Angela knew nothing of her trysts with Brian (other than the usual college rumor mill), but they were friendly enough to ride together. Angela would be ready to head to the college at six am, giving them time to set up in their rooms. The camp kids would arrive the next day. Catherine wanted to have at least one day of unpacking and relaxing in her room before facing an onslaught of noisy kids.
CHAPTER TWO
Catherine took in the campus as they drove through the main gate. Silver Spring College was much larger than Quincy College. The quad was huge, close to the size of two football fields. The dorms were larger, modern, and more utilitarian than the old-fashioned brick Georgian styled dorms of Quincy.
The heat was overwhelming as Catherine and Angela stepped out of the air-conditioned van. Summers in Maryland could be very overpowering with the sweltering heat and humidity. Catherine did not own a fan, and now she wished she had one. Or even better an air conditioner. She hoped the college had a few window fans available because she had every intention of stealing one.
She and Angela walked into Memorial Hall, and were greeted by a mouse of a woman, small and frail with a shock of light brown hair and thick, wire framed glasses. The woman gave them a big, toothy grin when she saw them.
“Good! Some of the others have arrived. I have room keys for you. It's good to meet you. I'm Monica Shay, organizer of the camp. My co-organizer, Ryan McNamara, hasn't arrived yet. You'll meet him once he's settled in. He's expected to arrive very soon.”
After signing in, Catherine was eager to get to her room and relax. She badly needed a fan, though.
“Monica, does the college have any spare fans handy? I'm so hot I feel like I'm going to get sick.”
“There are a few, but I don't know where they're kept. Once Ryan gets here, he might be able to help us. Until then, drink lots of water. Your room has a sink in the corner, so you won't be hurting for water.”
That was a good thing to know. She had a spare bottle in which she kept water to carry around with her. Now she had a reason to look forward to Ryan arriving. She could sweet talk him into giving her a window fan. If she didn't get one, she's probably puke on the floor in front of him, which would not be a good way to introduce herself.
Her room was much bigger than the room she had at Quincy. With a window that overlooked a field, her room must have been at least thirty feet long and twenty feet wide. This was not a prison cell like her room at Quincy. While she didn't mind close quarters, and in fact enjoyed spaces others might find claustrophobic, she relished her new, spacious digs. It was a proper dorm room. A double-sized bed sat against a wall, and the all-important sink was at the opposite end of the room next to the large window. She walked to the window and opened it in order to get some much needed air circulating. I must have a fan! Ryan, hurry up and get here so I can get one from you! She unpacked her luggage, putting away her clothes in the dresser provided by the college and in the walk-in closet. She pulled out her long lace curtains, which she hung over the window to keep prying eyes out. Rather than leave the room looking like a utilitarian closet, she wanted it to look homey as long as she occupied it, and that meant putting up pretty lace curtains. Once the curtains were in place, she decorated them with Chinese party lanterns on a string. The lanterns would let in soft light when she turned them on in the evenings. She loved her lanterns. They gave her room a cozy air.
Her stereo sat up against a wall, and she stacked her LPs next to it. There was nothing quite as enjoyable in the evening after a long day in classes than to sip a gin and tonic while listening to Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young, David Bowie and especially Peter Gabriel. She had enjoyed Genesis mainly because of Gabriel, and she had been a fan ever since he left Genesis in 1975. Now, in 1983, she grew to love his successful solo career even more. She liked how Gabriel felt secure enough in his talent to leave a successful band behind to go it alone, and he did it without burning any bridges. Catherine wanted to be able to move on in her life in that manner. So, she listened to Gabriel's music to remind herself of her dreams. Security, her favorite album by Gabriel to date, was released only a year earlier. She never listened to newer Genesis, only the older version with Gabriel. She pulled out her LP of Security, and played it on the turntable. What a great way to enjoy her new digs!
She was happy to see that the small dorm fridge she had ordered sat in its corner, plugged into the wall. After filling it with bottles of cola, tonic water, and deli meats, she closed the door. Aside from her TV and stereo, she could not survive without a fridge full of cold drinks and snack food. She liked to while away her evenings watching The Twilight Zone, Dynasty and Hart to Hart while enjoying a light meal before retiring to bed for the night.
To make herself feel very much at home, she taped her life-sized poster of Clark Gable as Rhett Butler onto the wall next to her door. At first glance, it looked like a man stood at the entrance to her room. Gone with the Wind was her favorite movie. She fancied herself to be a latter day version of Scarlett O'Hara - an opportunist who looked at life as a way to make things comfortable for herself. Scarlett never did anything she really didn't want to do, and neither did Catherine Stone.
Feeling very warm, she pulled a washcloth and soap out of her closet, and walked to her sink. She ran the cold water on the tap until it chilled her hand. She needed to clean up a bit before the rest of the crew arrived. She pulled off her sweaty t-shirt, and dumped it into a clothing hamper. Soaping up the washcloth until it foamed, she rubbed her warm skin with the cool suds, wiping off a day's worth of sweat. She washed her apple sized breasts and her armpits, and then rinsed off. Looking in the mirror, she inspected her torso. Not bad at all. Her broad shoulders were strong from years of building and painting sets for the Quincy's drama club. Firm, high breasts begged to be fondled. She lifted her breasts with her hands, wondering when a new man would caress them the way she wanted. Brian is getting too tiring for me. I need new blood! After drying with a towel, she grabbed a clean t-shirt with a picture of Peter Gabriel on it, and put it on. She never wore a bra, and going braless made her feel free in a way she had never allowed herself to feel when she was a high school student. Her breasts were so high and firm that she could easily go without a bra, so there were no worries. She kept on her denim shorts. Dressed and ready to go, she grabbed a bottle of cola out of her fridge, and waited.
Taking her July 1983 Cosmopolitan from her desk, she opened to horoscopes. The month could start out with a sizzling romance, but temperamental Mars is bound to stir up squabbles. A sizzling romance was exactly what she wanted! What kind of romance was headed her way? And with whom would she squabble? Most likely Brian.
She read some more, and liked what her horoscope said. Perhaps not destined to endure, this liaison may at least provide a fortnight of the steamiest lovemaking you've experienced since January. What kind of man would give her the steamy fuck she wanted, without any demands on her part? Why stop at one? Catherine intended on bagging several hot fucks this month if they came her way.
She knew Cosmo's horoscopes could mean just about anything, but she felt thrilled over the possibility of new sexual excitement. She had a subscription to Cosmopolitan Magazine ever since she was a freshman, and she believed what editor in chief Helen Gurley Brown had said about young women in the 1980s – the world was theirs. Young women these days truly could have it all, and Catherine was one of them. She reached for the brass ring, and she was surprised how easy it was to grab it. She had plenty of time to plan out her life and become the successful woman she wanted to be. What was the term she heard for successful and powerful young people? Yuppies? Young Urban Professionals? Her goal was to become a yuppie in the near future. While she had not yet settled on a career, although she leaned towards the theatre, she wanted to spend her free time exploring her sexuality and relationships. When she concentrated on her career in a few years, she might not have the time to devote to relationships and sex. She wanted to be as sexually open as men were free to be. Why were men who were sexually open revered, yet women who were as sexually free viewed as sluts? British acquaintances described her as a “ladette”, which was a woman who acted like a loutish lad, but that term didn't get thrown in her direction as much as “slut”. She did not like the double standard.
Her parents had no idea she was such a sexual free spirit. Having been raised in a conservative Catholic household, her mother and especially her father would not have approved of her penchant for blowjobs and seducing older married men. Her mother wanted her to bring home a nice boy for dinner, and her father wanted her to get married. The pressure to get married was intense and rather hypocritical, considering that her parents split two years ago the same weekend she broke up with Steve. So, instead of crying on her mother's shoulder over losing her first boyfriend, she had to listen to her mother bitch about how her father cheated on her with “that woman from the bank” and “that woman from the grocery store” before she finally threw his ass out. It was clear she still loved him, though. She wanted him back, if only he would stop dipping his quill in other inkwells.
Catherine knew better, though. Her father would never stop cheating. Her mother was kidding herself, but there was no convincing her otherwise. Catherine also knew her penchant for married men came from watching her father abandon his family to screw around with other women, but she didn't care. She didn't want a commitment. She wanted to enjoy her sexual freedom, and she knew better than anyone that any man, if given the chance, would cheat on his woman. The only man who would not cheat was impotent or had a nonexistent sex drive or both. If she wanted to fuck a man who was married, chances are he was game to fuck her. He'd spend his money on her rather than on his wife and kids, just as her father spent his money on his mistresses rather than on her and her mother.
She remembered once when her father picked her up from Quincy when she was a freshman, and the rich girls had gone to The Mountainside Inn for dinner with their parents. She asked her dad if they could eat dinner at The Mountainside, and her dad yelled 'I'm not taking you to an expensive restaurant!” They ate at a truck stop.
From that point on, Catherine demanded dinner at expensive restaurants from her married lovers, and she would not settle for fast food joints or diners. She knew she was reacting to how her father treated her, but she didn't care. If a man insisted on feeding her junk food from a joint with a clown as a mascot after they fucked, she would never fuck him again.
She let the ones she didn't want to fuck know she liked them, but she didn't want that kind of relationship with them. They were okay with it, and even happy that they got that much attention. There were a few that Catherine simply despised, and she wanted nothing to do with them. Those men were filthy, slimy assholes, and they nauseated her. Her “Fight or Flight” response went immediately to “Flight” with those guys, and she avoided them like the plague. She ran into that type at bars and art show openings, and they tended to be high or drunk – best to be avoided at all costs.
Knowing that her mother would call everyone on campus until she finally reached her, Catherine walked down the hall to the payphone and decided to get the dirty deed done herself. Might as well get the aggravation over with now.
“Hi, Mom. I got here about an hour ago. Set up my room. Wanted to let you know I got there okay.”
“Make sure you call your father. He'll want to know how you're doing.” No, he won't.
“Do you have a nice room?”
“Yes, Mom. It's huge, but it's unbearably hot. I'm hoping to get a fan today. I have a feeling I'm going to keep the windows open the whole time I'm here.”
“Just make sure you pull your blinds so no one can see you undressing.”
Figures her mother would worry about men seeing her naughty bits, as if men hadn't seen them before, but her mother didn't know about that.
“How many other people are working with you?”
“I'm not sure. About a dozen, I think. I'm meeting them today.”
“I hope you meet some boys. Maybe you'll meet someone nice you can bring home.”
“Mom, I'm not here to meet a boyfriend.”
“Your sister is already engaged, and she's two years younger than you.”
“Good for her. I'm not interested in that.”
“I'm just saying that you're not getting any younger. Don't turn anyone down too soon.”
“I'm twenty-two. I have plenty of time to find a boyfriend, and I don't want one. I don't want to talk about that. Just letting you know I arrived here safely, and I'm going to have fun this month.” Angela approached the phone booth, and waved at her. “I have to go. Angela's here.”
“You take care, and call back soon, then.”
They rang off, and Angela walked her down the hall.
“Ryan's here. Monica wants us downstairs for an introduction and orientation.”
After turning off her music, she left her room and followed Angela downstairs. She saw about a dozen men and women her age gathered around a banquet table. Boxes of donuts and liters of soft drinks sat on the table, and several had already helped themselves. Catherine grabbed a chocolate glazed donut, some ice in a bucket, a cup, and then poured herself some cola. Ah, something cold to drink in this heat. I'll need it.
She looked around the room. How interesting were these people? She sat next to two identical twin women. At least they didn't dress alike, but their haircuts were identical. It would be amusing trying to tell these two apart. She counted to find that there were five guys and five women, including her. Just enough to line up in couples.
So with whom would she end up? More than one guy? Would she have to share? The women were not nearly as pretty as she was. One rather mousy woman sat on the opposite side of the twins. She would be no competition. The other two were the athletic type, and they seemed to be more of “one of the guys” than anything else.
So what about the guys? Catherine's gaze moved around the room. Her eyes fell on one guy who sat across from her. The books he held were about The Method and Konstantin Stanislavski. Ah, an actor. He might be interesting. “Introduction to Acting” was Catherine's favorite class, and she had studied The Method. He certainly looks like an actor. Brooding good looks like his were hard to come by in the sleek and big hair 1980s. Thick dark brown hair hung to his collar, and it nearly hid his bright green eyes. Dressed all in black, he looked like an out-of-place Goth in a sea of feathered hair and Duran Duran t-shirts. He seemed to be more the type to listen to The Cure. His handsome chiseled face screamed “intense”, although she suspected he cultivated this look for the benefit of his classes. She wouldn't be surprised if he feigned the intense demeanor to attract girls. Catherine never fawned over guys. She chose her conquest, and then arranged things so that he thought he was the one running the show. Catherine agreed with the old saying that “a woman chases a man until he thinks he caught her”.
Monica walked into the room, and sat in the chair at the head of the table.
“I'm Monica Shay. I've met all of you, although very briefly. I hope you are comfortable in your rooms. The director, Ryan McNamara, will be with us momentarily. I'll get started. First, I'd like everyone to introduce themselves.”
Introductions went quickly. Catherine forgot most names the moment after she heard them, but she wasn't worried about appearing rude. She could charm everyone when it suited her. The actor was named Derrick Jackson, or DJ for short. She liked that. He had a haughty air about him to go with his smoldering good looks. He was also nineteen to her twenty-two. While only three years didn't seem like much, to college students it was a wide gulf. He was a younger man. She could get into that.
So, she had selected her prey. What would it take to get him interested in her?
“Hey, DJ, how do you like The Method?” Maybe if she drew him out he'd show interest in her.
“It's a fantastic way of opening up your own mind to the acting experience. I've learned a great deal about myself from my use of Method acting,” Oh, God, did he really just say all that? And in such a snotty, above-it-all voice! He's going to be fun to bring down a few pegs. Not only is he an actor, he's an egotistical actor to boot.
“I studied Method acting when I was a freshman, and I found it a little limiting. I like to research my roles in more depth than only my own experiences. How do you go about researching the roles you play?”
“I have a minor in history, and I've studied the eras in which my characters have lived. I played Shakespeare's Richard III last year. Reading the history of the royal family taught me much more than Method acting could, although Method did help me find Richard's voice.”
“Wow, you played the lead as a freshman, and one so difficult to play? Do you think Richard killed the little princes?”
“Of course he did. That's one heinous murder, isn't it?”
He gave Catherine a grin that erased all hints of haughtiness in his tone. He has perfect, white teeth and a winning smile. Plus, his smile reached his gorgeous green eyes, crinkling the skin at the corners. That smile lit up his entire face. So, he really wasn't a stuck up asshole after all. He was playing with her. Either that or he was just shy with strangers. Catherine had met plenty of shy actors who came across as haughty, but they were actually merely timid. She had judged DJ before she even had a chance to get to know him better. She really needed to stop doing that.
“I love true crime stories, and that's one of the most famous,” DJ said. “So, are you still studying acting?”
“I'd like to major in it, but Quincy College has no theatre major. So, I'm taking the classes that are available. I'm thinking of transferring.”
“Silver Spring College has a good theatre department. I'm a student here. You might like it. Is Quincy still a women's college?”
“Yes, and I think I made a huge mistake choosing it. I chose it so that I wouldn't be tempted to major in theatre, but now I realize that's really what I want as my major. What else can you tell me about Silver Spring College?”
“It's coed and close to D.C., as you can see. It's also three times the size of Quincy, if I'm thinking of the right college. My cousin went to Quincy, and I thought it was too small. Not coed like Silver Spring. We can talk later about it if you like.”
“Sure, I'd like that. Are you teaching the acting classes for the camp?”
“Yes. I know I'm supposed to have a partner. Would you like to pair up? I think we'd have lots of fun working together. You seem friendly enough.” And I want to get in your pants.
“Sure, I'd love to. We can torment the kids with theatre games and embarrassing improvs.”
“A girl after my own heart! Yes, I can see we're going to have a blast together.”
At that moment, a middle-aged man walked into the room, and when Catherine laid eyes on him, she knew she had to have him. He gave off an air of authority that brought out her dominant side. I want to tie him to my radiator, and make him beg me for relief. Why did she always think about sex? She saw no reason to complain. After all, she was young and painfully sexy, so hot that most men found her irresistible. When she took in Ryan's broad shoulders, well cropped brown hair, and business suit, she knew she could release the wild side of such a staid and conservative man. Now, how to go about getting him where she wanted him?
How many men did she need to satisfy her ever-growing need for a hot fuck? None to be honest. She enjoyed the attention, to be sure. Older men often gravitated towards her because she smoldered in her sexuality. She wasn't a ditsy little airhead who traveled with mumsy and dadders over the holidays at Vail to go skiing, and who giggled at the frat boy jokes told by the guys from the brother college military academy. Quincy was for rich girls who wanted to get their MRS degree, something Catherine didn't know until she had gone to classes for a week, and when she figured out that she attended what was nothing more than a finishing school, she begged her parents to let her transfer but they refused. So here she was, trapped at Quincy, trying to make the best of a bad situation. Not a quiet and demure rich girl who dressed in ski sweaters and drove a Beemer. She grew up in an industrial town with a machinist father and a secretary mother. She was a working class young woman in a sea of trust fund daughters and older, male tenured professors who weren't used to someone as earthy, blunt, and sensuous as she.
Her fiery demeanor and blunt speech usually shocked the older, dressed down men who came into her crosshairs. She was lightening strikes from a hot summer thunderstorm. The shock you felt after walking barefoot across a rug and touching a metal doorknob. The Siren who lured unsuspecting men to their dooms as they crashed their ships against the rocks. Catherine Stone could not be contained, and no man had ever succeeded in taming her. Most often, she helped those staid men shed their repressed demeanors by inviting them into her hot and sexy world.
Catherine leaned back in her chair, and hooked her heel onto the side of the table. Sitting in that fashion made her legs look long and muscular. She curled her body towards Ryan, hoping he'd notice her.
Ryan looked up and smiled, his gaze roaming around the table to see who sat before him. When his gaze reached Catherine, his eyes widened and he did a double take. Good, I got him. He blinked a few times as if he couldn't quite believe what he saw, and then a smile crept across his face, deepening his dimples. Oh, a sexy suited-up man with dimples. How boyish! I think I'm going to do quite well at this camp. An actor and the camp's director, how much better can it get?
“What's your name?” His soft and low voice sounded as if he wanted to ask her to join him in the woods behind the building and get it on.
“Catherine. You must be Ryan.” Never once letting her gaze leave his face, she noticed he took in her entire body. His gaze traveled from her smiling face, down her body, and lingered on her outstretched, bare legs. Through her peripheral vision, she saw that everyone around the table had noticed the erotic exchange between the two. One of the athletic women – Catherine thought her name was Lou – frowned, bringing forth a blush that traveled up Catherine's chest to warm her face. She liked competition and being the center of gossip. There was nothing like jealousy in other women to get her blood rolling. If she were going to snare Ryan, she would have to be very discreet and careful, lest they get caught. But as long as they wondered about her, she would be satisfied. Half the fun of fooling around with men was the other people around her wondering what she was up to, especially if she was up to something taboo like fucking an older man who ran a college camp.
She cocked her head in his direction, and stretched out her long legs. The movement did not get past his attention. Or anyone else's in the room. Monica's eyebrows furrowed at the sexual exchange. She clearly disapproved, but what was there to disapprove of? A little flirting? It wasn't as if she threw him on the table and fucked him right there in front of everybody. Even though she wanted to.
“Ryan, do you have any spare fans? I get sick from the heat, and I'd really appreciate a fan in my room.”
“Yes, I have a few extra fans for anyone here who wants one. Which room are you in?”
“Seventy-six, in Memorial Hall.”
“I'll have one over to you as soon as I can.”