Table of Contents
Chapter 1 – Me, Sexy and Wild? 1
Chapter 2 – Just Appreciating Contrasts 11
Chapter 3 – A Hot Tub on Ice 16
Chapter 4 – I Like Approval 20
Chapter 5 – Just a Sexy Party Favor 24
Chapter 6 – She’s Always Blindfolded 30
Chapter 7 – A Crazy Idea 34
Chapter 8 – Scared About Going to Hell 37
Chapter 9 – They Call It the Frat Chat 40
Chapter 10 – Made to Attract Attention 47
Chapter 11 – I’ll Always Wear the Ring 51
Chapter 12 – Parade Me Through Town 60
Chapter 13 – They’d See Everything 64
Chapter 14 – I’m Just Something Soft 77
Chapter 15 – No Denying the Divine 83
Chapter 16 – No Third Floor for You, Professor 86
Chapter 17 – Some Lower Feelings 95
Chapter 18 – It’s Just to You, Right Now 104
Chapter 19 – A Promise to Not Say No 111
Chapter 20 – Every Single Thing They Want 118
Chapter 21 – You Won’t See Me 131
Chapter 22 – Free Is the Going Price 139
Chapter 23 – Who Says I’m an Angel? 146
Chapter 24 – You’ll Be Using Them Too 153
Chapter 25 – Like a Superpower 159
Chapter 26 – Tell Me I’m Pretty 162
Chapter 27 – Record Number, Actually 170
Chapter 28 – Even More Like an Object 176
Chapter 29 – You Just Tell Me for Sure 193
Chapter 30 – Tonight, She’s Just a What? 201
Chapter 31 – She’s Bought and Sold 205
Chapter 32 – A Choice Woman in Action 211
Chapter 33 – Pure Sex and Lust 216
Chapter 34 – A Ring on Her Left Hand 219
Chapter 35 – It’s Who She Really Is 225
Chapter 36 – Same Damn Time 243
Chapter 1 – Me, Sexy and Wild?
Only the reliable ticking of the clock on the living room wall competed with the listless scraping of Lenore’s frumpy slippers on the hardwood floor. Amos, exercising his usual unnaturally admirable posture where he sat at his end of the couch, watched the second hand snapping the two of them along toward their future until he could turn mostly just his eyes to watch her walk into the room.
She kept a watch on the TV, which was alive with multi-colored blinking lights but muted, and walked around the coffee table to stand where she usually sat, at the couch’s other end. With the remote in her hand, she focused on flipping channels as Amos studied her quietly.
Whatever figure she kept hidden under her long thick robe had first been covered by long flannel pajamas. He couldn’t see the slippers from where he sat but if he’d have leaned, he could have confirmed that loose white socks filled the gap between slipper and pant hem.
After scanning quickly along her amorphous shape, he settled his gaze on her blond hair, which she’d woven together, bound up with bands and pins, and piled up on her head, not letting a single strand stray low enough to graze a shoulder.
Satisfied with the channel, she turned.
“What?” she said while sitting, then slouching back and letting the remote rattle onto the end table.
Across the empty expanse of the couch cushions between them, ignoring the flickering light of the quietly obnoxious TV, he rubbed at his short, graying beard and said, “I’m, uh, just wondering if the house is too warm.”
He pointed and continued, saying, “For, um . . .”
She smirked and said, while tidying up the robe and smoothing it out over her lap, “Oh. You’re thinking these pajamas are too much again?”
“Uh, well, I do wonder. Probably that robe too.”
She pulled it tighter across her chest, then tightened up the belt while gazing calmly at him. His eyes dipped just once, giving him only the briefest of glances at where a pair of breasts were suffocating behind layers of thick cloth, making confirmation of their existence unlikely.
“You should be used to it by now,” she said. “And be honest—this is what you like.”
Neither of them looked when the clock slipped in a few more clicks.
“No, I, uh, didn’t even have to get used to it. And yeah, I do like it.”
“Amos,” she said and checked for any stray wisps of her tied-up, controlled blond clump of thick hair. “It was in my profile.”
“That you’re modest. Yes, I noticed that right away, and I love that about you.”
She tipped her head, her grin not at all eager to expand into an outright smile.
“Yeah. You said in your profile that you liked that. And you must because you didn’t waste any time proposing.”
She showed him the back of her left hand, then wiggled her fingers around.
“A unique, custom engagement ring too. I didn’t waste any time putting it on either.”
He laughed once, looked down, then said, “Yes, I still can’t believe my good fortune in finding you. I really do think you’re perfect for me.”
“So, you must love my pajamas, too, then. It’s just part of what got your interest, right?”
Looking back up, he shook his head while saying, “Uh, yes. That’s part of what attracted me to you.”
She was just beginning to comment when he hurried to say, “Not just that, though. But yes, modesty is good.”
“Well, it’s not just a random lifestyle choice. I do have to maintain some kind of professional appearance.”
“You surely do. Especially at your office. One might conclude that altering one’s behavior and habits at home could easily spill over into one’s life outside of the home.”
Nodding, she said, “Yeah. I can see how that could happen.”
She sighed, glanced at the TV, and said, “And besides, software’s boring, but it’s what I do. That persona of being demure and not flashy fits the workplace and the industry.”
“And it’s best to maintain that persona at home too. I wouldn’t change a thing. I admire how professional you are.”
“Well, thank you. You too. A very accomplished college professor. You’re kind of channeled into being a proper kind of guy, too, even if you don’t want to be.”
“Well, but I do want to be, and it’s all good. It might be the luckiest thing that happened to me—that the woman I fell for just happens to reside in a town with a university.”
“With an open position for a professor, no less. In your field too.”
“Psychology. Yes, how fortuitous.”
“It seems that it was meant to be that I could lure you here.”
“Yes, one might say that you sure did lure me. And after moving here, what? Two months ago? Already, my first lecture is tomorrow. Wish me luck.”
“You don’t need luck. You’re good. You’ve been at it a while.”
“Huh. Yes, for a good portion of my forty-five years—I’ve been slogging through the field for a while. And look at you—forty-five, too, and poised to have the company you built from nothing explode any day now.”
“Well, that would be nice. We’re working on one big proposal that could really get things moving. We hope to hear good news tomorrow.”
He let his eyes drop to her legs, which were bent from placing her slippers against the edge of the coffee table. The clock ticked a few more times as he took in the shape of her calves hidden away under the thick flannel, and he gave her thighs only the briefest of glances before looking up and meeting her steady gaze.
“You’re still worried that I’m too warm?” she said and straightened her long robe to cover more.
“Always. It’s just a sign of how much I care.”
“Hmm. That’s nice,” she said, and his eyes followed her hand reaching again toward her ankle.
She rubbed her fingertips around on a thin band of smooth skin exposed between the edge of her pant leg and the top of a thick, floppy sock.
“Are you sure that you, uh, really want to wear all that?”
While tugging the pants down, she said, “Well, of course. So, what’s your first lecture going to be about tomorrow?”
He looked up, met her gaze, and said, “I’m winging it. I have nothing outlined—just an intro, get to know the students, stuff like that. Sometimes, things need to take a life of their own.”
“Yeah, you’re so right about that.”
Another glance of his toward her ankle, which no longer offered even a sliver of a view of her, prompted another tug on the pajama pants, so he looked back up.
“They’re not long enough,” she said. “I know.”
She scoffed and added, “Quite attractive, though, I’d bet.”
“Uh, yes. Quite. They’re, um, kind of sexy in their own way.”
She laughed and said, “Liar. Nice of you to say that, though. This just suits my level of daring, I’d guess. But this is what you like—unless you’ve changed your mind?”
“Oh no, I’m not about to change my mind about that. No, Lenore, I truly do love you, so don’t feel any pressure to be more daring.”
“You mean that?”
“I wouldn’t change a thing about you even if I could. Heck, I can’t even think of anything I’d change.”
“Not even the pajamas?”
He laughed and said, “No, they’re quite nice. I like the robe too.”
“Hmm. Well, it’s all comfortable at least.”
“Well, yes. But I do know that you have such an attractive figure.”
“So, you’re saying you want me to wear more revealing things?”
“What? No.”
“If you really wanted, I could—”
“It’s not necessary. I already know you look splendid. There’s no need to flaunt it.”
“I didn’t exactly say that I’d—”
“Lenore, there’s just no real need, whether one would call that flaunting or use some other descriptor. Pajamas are good. The robe too. You look quite nice.”
She sighed, looked toward the bedroom, then said, “Well, I don’t wear this much all the time.”
Grinning, he pointed at her and said, “You simply cannot. You’d become an unwitting, tangled captive of sheets and blankets.”
She didn’t smile, but he added, “And pillows. You’d never get any quality sleep with thick pajamas and robes and stuff. So, it’s only wise to wear—”
“Just my nightgown. Uh-huh. It would be even more comfortable if it was—”
“Shorter?” he said with his eyebrows raised.
“Um, no. No, I was going to say thinner.”
“Oh, thinner. Yes, that would be practical for sleeping.”
“Practical, yeah,” she said. “Past my knees is practical too.”
“Comfortable and modest. I believe it’s a fair compromise between comfort and modesty. Wouldn’t you say?”
“Uh, yeah. You already know that I value modesty. I’m sure you studied my profile carefully before making contact.”
“I did indeed. Yes.”
“Of course,” she said, “if you were to ever change your mind and think that shorter is good, too, because—”
“No, Lenore, no,” he said, chuckling. “Modest is very attractive. And I knew that you were—”
“You read that I was modest before you—”
“Fell in love with you.”
She managed a smile and said, “And I love you too. Especially because you’d never think me a prude.”
“Lenore, I never would think that. Besides, this,”—he scanned her up and down with a pointing finger—“is part of what I love about you. I could never find you any more attractive than I do right now. You could wear a giant brown paper bag and still be sexy and wild.”
“Me, sexy and wild? Have you seen any hint that I could ever be like that?”
“Well, no. But I’ll just go ahead and say it: I believe you have the shapely figure and good looks to be as sexy and wild as you want.”
“Hmm. But neither of us want that.”
“Uh, no, proper is good. Better. Your pajamas are kind of sexy, you know.”
“You think so?”
“Mm-hmm. Even your robe.”
She stretched her arms out and yawned.
“My thick robe. Yeah. And it’s about time for bed. I’ll go on ahead.”
She stood and stretched again while he said, “I’ll, uh, give you a minute, like usual, then I’ll be in.”
“Okay.”
She pulled both sides of the robe tighter across, cinched up the belt, then walked toward the hallway to the bedroom.
As the gentle padding of her slippers faded, the clock’s cadence segmented the silence in a room with a quiet, flickering screen.
Amos sat straight up with his eyes fixed on the silent TV, sometimes wincing at the strobing lights and listening to the clock, and moving only his eyes to the sounds of Lenore shuffling through the quiet house. She’d switched off the bathroom lights and fan, adding two soft clicks to the somber house in the suburbs, then scuffed her slippers along the wood floor of the hallway.
Tipping his head and holding his breath, he smirked at the sound of her flipping on the lights in the bedroom before giving the door a soft clunk to close it.
Sighing and scoffing silently while standing and clicking off the TV, he paused and turned to look toward the bedroom.
But he ambled the other way, off to make his own bedtime preparations, then quietly approached the bedroom door.
He reached out and felt the warm metal of the doorknob, and he tipped himself sideways enough to see light filling the gap below the door’s bottom edge.
In a quick series of orderly and well-practiced steps, he turned the knob, swung in the door, then reached for and snapped the light switch, causing the lamps on each nightstand to deny any illumination of the woman buried under layers of blankets.
“Hey, you can leave that on,” she said to the silhouette that he’d become in the doorway. “I mean, if you want.”
Not moving, he said, “Well, I suppose, I mean, we could if, um―”
“Amos, not if you don’t want to.”
“I, uh . . . do you want to? Is that what you want?”
After a pause, Lenore cleared her throat and said, “Well, no. I was just thinking, you know, if you wanted to. Off is fine by me.”
“Well, good, uh, we don’t really need those lamps on.”
“No. Of course not.”
He closed the door, then turned his eyes to the feeble night light stuck in the wall plug across the room, which had dutifully begun its shift, giving him enough light to not cripple himself en route to his side of the bed.
Unbuttoning his shirt, he said to the vague shape in the dark folds, “Besides, I already saw you. You looked picture-perfect all tucked in.”
“Hmm. You saw just part of me, that’s all. You must have seen where I left the pajamas and robe, too, if you’d—”
“Looked at the hook behind the door. Yes. So,” he said, chuckling, “that must mean you’re completely—”
“Wearing my nightie. That’s right.”
“Well, it’s a very nice nightie. I like it.”
“Come on to bed. We both have important days tomorrow.”
He’d just kicked off his pants, wearing only his boxers and a t-shirt, and he pulled open the covers while saying, “Best suggestion I’ve heard since the last time you said ‘come to bed.’”
“You’re silly.”
“One might say that I’m honored at such an invitation.”
“Hmm. Honored is . . . good.”
“Yes, it is.”
He climbed in and pulled the covers over both of them, then reached his hands around her waist.
“Oh, may I?”
“Of course,” she said.
She held his shoulder with her free hand but kept the other to herself, and he leaned close enough to kiss her.
“Mm, you feel good.”
“You too. See? No pajamas.”
He rubbed around her waist and said, “Yes. Nice. Just this wonderful nightgown. I must say, your waist is tiny.”
“You mean, compared to my . . .”
He reached for one of her breasts, began some gentle squeezing, and said, “Yes, very nice. I had no idea before I met you.”
He kissed her and backed away enough that she could say, “Well, that’s not something I should advertise to the world, is it? Unless you’d want me to be a little more—”
“No, of course not. It was very prudent of you to not emphasize such aspects of yourself.”
While he was fondling her gently, she began folding the blankets down off of them.
He laughed, let go of her, then said, “Oh, Lenore,” and fought with her just enough to pull it all back up.
His hand immediately got back to work. Under the blankets, though.
“God, you feel so good,” he said as he rubbed all around. “Hmm, I wonder if the other feels good too.”
“Oh, you’re already busy, so I should get the other strap? I’d be, um—”
“Undressing for me. I know. But that’s not at all your style.”
“I wouldn’t mind, uh, undressing for you.”
“Hmm, lights on and now undressing too?”
“Well, we’re home alone, Amos, and—”
“I’d like the honor for myself,” he said, then let go of her long enough to slide the other strap down, baring the pair of them under the blankets.
Up on one forearm, he kept his other hand from getting bored with either of them.
“Oh, God,” he said, keeping his hand moving from one to the other while she made sure that the blankets stayed pulled up high.
“You’ve been such a perfect fiancé, Amos. I love how you respect me so much and value modesty.”
“Mm-hmm. I absolutely love that about you too.”
She said, “Amos, it’s almost completely dark in here.”
“Yes, it is. Just that tiny little light way over there.”
While he was busy, she moved the layers of blankets down all in one quick motion, leaving his busy hand and her breasts out in a room not nearly as dark as she’d said.
With a loud gasp, he backed his hand away and stared at her large, perfect breasts. The lacy edging of her nightgown squeezed them from where it had been pulled down just far enough to reveal two prominent features.
“Oh God, Lenore, you’re—”
“Mm-hmm, Amos. Yes, it’s not so bad for you to—”
He yanked the coverings back up, almost enough to smother her, and he remained propped up and staring into her eyes.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” she said. “I mean, we’re home alone, and it’s not like I’m showing them off to the world.”
“You never would! Oh, Lenore, I won’t say that’s terrible, but—”
“No, it wouldn’t be terrible.”
“Huh. I’ll just say it’s unnecessary, then. You’re quite beautiful, and you don’t need to do that.”
“I know,” she said as he leaned in to kiss her. “Forgive me?”
“Hmm,” he said, grinning at her, “I’ll think about it.”
“Well, while you’re thinking . . .”
She rolled onto her back, and she held his shoulder with one hand while the other kept the blankets under control. After giving her breasts a few quick fondles, he reached down for the bottom hem of her nightshirt, way down near her knees.
Kissing her and working the plain material up along her thighs, Amos’s moving around almost folded the blankets down again, but Lenore had a solid hold on the thick layer.
He left the nightie near her waist, gave her leg and hip a few hurried rubs up and down, then shifted himself over to lie between her legs.
“Oh, Amos . . .”
“Lenore, you’re so perfectly beautiful. Almost too beautiful for such vulgar activities.”
He found his place and got into a steady rhythm.
“But I’ll dare to take such liberties with you. Don’t hate me for that, okay?”
“Hmm, such liberties. No, of course, I don’t hate you, Amos. Oh, that feels good.”
“Even in the dark,” he said.
Looking to the side, she said, “Mm-hmm. Even . . . in the dark.”
Chapter 2 – Just Appreciating Contrasts
Standing near a plain wooden lectern in the lowest area of a large lecture hall, Amos looked from side to side at seated students crowding the curving levels and rising like a noisy, distracted wave about to tumble down onto him.
“Class,” he said, then exaggerated a look at his watch.
He earned a few snickers and laughs, but the even mix of male and female freshman psychology students mostly abandoned their conversations and at least looked in his direction.
“Welcome to day one of this intro to psychology class. Since it’s a freshman course, I’m guessing you’re all kind of new. And guess what: I’m new too. I’m professor Riley—Amos Riley. Feel free to call me Professor Amos if you want.”
He paused to look around and saw that only a few were fiddling with phones or notebooks or other escapes from class. He glanced down at his work surface and spent more than a few seconds arranging everything before again looking up.
Then, he cleared his throat and continued.
“We’ll get into serious coursework with our very next class, I assure you. My only goal for today is to have a conversation with you, maybe get to know each other better. I hope you always feel free to share your thoughts and observations on whatever we’re discussing—maybe even on other stuff too. Whatever’s on your mind.”
A young man in the back row called out, “What’s on your mind, then?”
Amos scanned until he found the speaker, a fit fellow with short dark hair and wearing a white t-shirt and ball cap.
“I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“I’m Emilio. I’m a, uh, philosophy major. No offense.”
“None taken. Happy that you could join us. I hope you can share some of your philosophizing with us from time to time.”
“As if I could help myself.”
He got elbowed amid soft laughter.
“Okay. Good,” said Amos.
Sweeping his eyes across all of them again, Amos said, “I only moved to town a few months ago to take this position. I don’t usually like disruptions in my life, but I met someone truly special and decided to take a chance and move here. My hope is that the chaos of the move will subside, and I’ll be able soon to settle into a comfortable, more stable life. That, I think, is probably the best path for anyone that—”
“I disagree,” said Emilio. “Sir. Professor, sir.”
“Uh, Amos is fine. And you’re not wasting any time. You disagree how, Emilio?”
“That bit about a comfortable, stable life.”
Amos pointed, grinning, and said, “And just like that, Emilio is veering us in the direction of a philosophy class. Very well. Let’s drift over from psychology since they share a lot of common ground anyway. So, Emilio, what does your brand of philosophy tell us about living a good life?”
“Roller coaster.”
Amos looked around at the quiet students, most looking at Emilio but some glancing briefly at him too.
“That’s a bit short of a treatise. Expand on that, please.”
“If it’s comfortable and stable, it isn’t going anywhere. So, it’s not exactly a fun ride.”
“Oh, I see. Sure. You’re saying that life should be more for the thrills?”
“Uh, no. Not exactly.”
Amos looked around at the confused faces, then he squinted up at Emilio.
“Alright. Life’s not for sitting still but not for thrills either. I’m not sure if this is psychology or philosophy, but—”
Someone else called out, “Or both?”
Amos pointed toward the source of the comment but kept his eyes on Emilio.
“Yes. Likely both. Whatever subject matter we’re wading into, it seems to be—”
“He’s writing a book,” someone else called out.
It took a few seconds for Amos to locate the speaker, a smiling young woman, and she added, “A philosophy book.”
“Yes. That I believe,” said Amos.
Looking up again, Amos said, “Emilio, you have our attention. What is it about a roller coaster that should serve as a guide to one’s life if it isn’t the sitting in a motionless seat or in getting the shit scared out of us? Oh, can I swear here? At this university?”
“Probably shouldn’t,” said a fellow in the front row.
“Uh-uh. Not recommended,” said another.
“Stuff,” said Amos. “Getting the stuff scared out of us. We don’t want to get the university too upset.”
He fixed his gaze back up at Emilio and waited. They all waited.
“It’s like this: staying in one place is empty. It’s kind of dead. What I mean is that just sitting there isn’t good, and riding the hill nonstop isn’t good either.”
“What, then?”
He held both hands out, palm to palm and close together.
“The space in between. You want the hill because you were sitting still. Then, you’re relieved to sit still because the hill scared the,”—he paused to look around the room—“stuff out of you. It’s that passing between the two that matters. That’s where your best life is.”
“The contrast?” said Amos. “Like appreciating heat after being cold? Like that?”
“Yep. Not staying all comfortable and stable. Like the lives of, uh, well, most professors.”
“Mine’s not completely entrenched in stability. I just packed up and moved here.”
“All you did was move your boring life somewhere else.”
“Who said my life is boring?”
“You did. You said it’s comfortable and stable. Sounds kind of dead to me.”
“It’s really not, Emilio. So, you’re saying it should be chaotic? That’s your solution to life?”
“Uh-uh. Not chaotic. Just appreciating contrasts. That’s Chapter 1.”
“Of your book.”
“Yep. Chapter 2 will be—”
The buzzer above the door announced the end of the class period.
“Will be what?” Amos said after the alert went silent.
Emilio stood, books in hand, and looked around at everyone else filing out of their rows and toward the exit. He grinned and pointed down at Amos.
“Too late. Just stay bored, if you are bored, until next class.”
The chatter and laughter rose up, and Amos didn’t argue the point as Emilio and almost all of the rest began streaming out of the hall.
“Professor Amos?”
He looked toward the voice and saw a pretty girl with her hands on a stack of books in the first row.
“Yes?”
“I’m Lindsey. He, um,”—she turned to glance toward the exit, where Emilio had already passed through—“he likes to mess with professors. He should be a junior by now, but he’s just a troublemaker.”
“Oh, nice to meet you, Lindsey. No trouble. He, um, has some strong opinions, that’s all. Will he drop out before the next class?”
“He really might! Then, he’d have to try harder at fitness modeling.”
“Oh, he’s a philosopher slash model, then. Unique.”
“That’s funny, professor. But maybe ‘troublemaker’ is still the best word. You should go find him in the park around lunch time. He’s always there. Maybe you’re the one that can talk some sense into him.”
“I’m not actually a psychologist, you know.”
“I know. Okay, never mind. See you next class.”
Chapter 3 – A Hot Tub on Ice
Most of the midday sunlight was being choked out by the thick trees where Amos paused to buy coffee from a vendor in the park, a large square area crisscrossed with pathways, surrounded by college buildings, and teeming with students and locals.
“Thanks. Keep the change.”
“I surely will. Thank you. You’re new.”
“Yes. It’s my first day teaching at the university. Psychology.”
“Oh, that stuff. All Voodoo to me. You go fill those young heads with all that learning, you hear?”
“Uh, sure. Yes. I fully intend to. Have a good afternoon.”
Amos took a sip while stepping along the blacktop walkway, scanning ahead at the small groups of students at picnic tables, standing or walking around, almost all carrying or at least close to textbooks.
A second later, his eye caught a white t-shirt, and focusing for another second proved that it was Emilio up ahead, lounging with his back against a weathered table that was in unfiltered sunshine. While walking toward him, the young man he was with, a larger, bulkier, but well-dressed guy without any books or backpacks or any other student gear bumped fists with Emilio, then sauntered off in the opposite direction.
Emilio had just stuffed the last of a sandwich into his mouth when he saw Amos approaching, and he pointed at him.
“Chapter 2. You just can’t wait.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“No, how could it be? Walking through the park around lunch, coffee in hand, might be the first installment of your new routine, one which will become etched in granite, never to be altered in any way.”
“Good one. May I?” he said, tipping his head toward the bench.
“Be my guest.”
Amos sat and kept his back straight and barely using the tabletop.
“Hey,” said Emilio, “I’m just kind of an asshole. Everyone knows that.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“You do now. I was just guessing about your life being boring from what you said. I really have no clue. You can tell me, though.”
“Tell you what?”
“If your life is boring. All comfortable and stable.”
Amos looked away and said, “Uh, stable enough, I suppose. I don’t really look for chaos.”
“I never said chaos. Seriously, though, stable is a killer. Comfort zones kill.”
“And you know this . . . how?”
He held Emilio’s gaze until he smirked and looked away.
“I don’t. Just philosophizing. The theory is sound, though.”
“Yes. So, you’re writing a book about it. What’s Chapter 2 about?”
Emilio scoffed and picked at his teeth, then spit something out into the grass.
“Let’s review. Chapter 1 is about going from hot to cold.”
“Yes,” said Amos, “or going from sitting still to screaming down a hill. It’s about that space between, right?”
“Yep. Even better is when you have both at the same time.”
“Huh? Like a roller coaster car sitting still and racing downhill at the same time? How exactly are you going to arrange that?”
“Well, no, maybe not that. Bad example. How about this: sitting in a hot tub when the temperature’s low enough to freeze your ass solid?”
Amos laughed at the blue sky, then nodded and looked out across the freshly-mowed lawn.
“Alright. Yes, I can see that. That’s, what? A peak human experience?”
“Shit, man, I don’t know. I’m kind of making it up as I go.”
“Maybe all great philosophers do that.”
He waited with a grin until Emilio turned toward him, then grinned himself.
“You’re alright, professor. Hey, sorry about making a scene in class.”
“You didn’t mean it?”
“No, I meant it—I think your life is probably boring. I’m just an asshole for saying it out loud.”
“Why did you, then?”
“Well, shit, in general, I tend to talk way too much. I lose chicks over that. It seems that not all like to listen to a man babbling at such an intimate time.”
“I don’t believe I’ve ever heard anything quite like that. Huh.”
“Besides spouting off too much, I think I wanted to feel that crossover moment. You know, sitting there all proper with an esteemed professor. I mean, I’m there to hang on his every word—he’s a bona fide font of knowledge. And I slipped right over to being an asshole and, well, kind of tearing that professor down.”
Amos waited again until he had Emilio’s attention.
“How was it? That crossing over?”
“Damn good. Not only that, it was kind of a Chapter 2 thing too. I was giving you shit and at the same time, I knew you were a decent guy that didn’t deserve it. Hot and cold.”
“A hot tub on ice.”
Emilio pointed and said, “Exactly. Hey, uh, you don’t have to admit that your life is boring or anything, but maybe you’d like to get out of your lane a little anyway.”
“I kind of like my lane.”
“Of course. Everyone’s happy buckled in that coaster car for a while. All nice and safe.”
Amos scoffed and said, “Funny. Yes. So, what’s your idea for my steep race to the bottom?”
“Shit, you make it sound like something self-destructive. No, man, just something fun. Sometimes, just something different, even if it isn’t anything special, can give you a boost.”
“Well, one might say that a boost isn’t a bad thing.”
“Doesn’t have to be, no. Whatever, professor, I’ll try to constrain myself during your class time.”
“It’s your class time, too, Emilio. Which makes it sound like you plan to keep attending my lectures.”
“Yep, of course. You need that drama to keep everyone else awake.”
Amos laughed, sipped his coffee, then sighed loudly.
“Yes. I like psychology, but it could easily be a snooze fest if I’m not creative with it.”
“Happy to help. Hey, after class tomorrow, coffee’s on me, alright?”
“Sure, Emilio. Does letting you treat me to coffee count as getting out of my lane?”
“Not a chance, professor. Uh-uh.”
Chapter 4 – I Like Approval
The afternoon sun made a lackluster effort to reach into the quiet house when Amos swept open the front door. He paused, hand on the knob, just long enough to see a dormant TV and two sweeps of a second hand tracing circles on the far wall, but no one was close enough to greet him after his first day on his new job.
Sighing but grinning, too, he closed the door quietly and dumped his keys noisily on the small wood table near the door, then held himself still, his breath, too, and listened. After a few seconds, with no sounds of footsteps or any happy voice calling to him, he smirked and aimed his steps toward the kitchen.
“Lenore,” he said, standing in the doorway. “I wasn’t sure you were home.”
“Oh, just focusing on dinner. Spaghetti sound good?”
She’d only glanced over her shoulder as she faced the stove while stirring things around in a big pot. It took only a second for him to scan her up and down, studying a shape that offered few details and was cloistered away beneath baggy pants and an untucked, oversized long-sleeved shirt. At the very top, her hair was conspiring to conceal its natural luster and appeal by mounding itself into a sloppy knot.
“You’re amazing. A productive day at the office, and you still manage to whip up some kind of dinner. It was a productive day, wasn’t it? How did things go?”
She turned with one hand on her hip, the other keeping the handle of a long wooden spoon planted in the pot.
Before speaking, she blew out a breath, then shook her head.
“Uh-oh,” he said before letting her say any more.
“Right. We didn’t get that client. At least not yet. She said she just wanted more time to consider our capabilities, but that’s usually just a polite rejection.”
“Ooh, a rejection. Not good.”
“Never. I like approval—there’s nothing better than unmistakable, enthusiastic approval. So, life goes on. How was your day? Do any good professor stuff?”
He pulled out a chair at the kitchen table, sat, then drummed the fingers of both hands and kept his eyes on hers.
“It’s like I was still at my old position, just with different faces looking back. It was fine, though, don’t get me wrong. It just didn’t seem all that new.”
“You’re bored already?”
“What? No, I’m not saying that. It’s just all kind of familiar. Same subject being broadcast to a new crowd of students. I think maybe I can develop more of a connection with the students here, though. Too soon to tell.”
“That sounds promising.”
“Yes. Hey, you didn’t, um, wear that to the office, did you?”
“No, Amos. That would have killed that contract even quicker. No, I changed into more comfortable stuff as soon as I got through the door.”
“Comfortable. Yes, that’s good. You look comfortable.”
Facing her work at the stove, she sighed but didn’t comment.
A few seconds later, over her shoulder, she said, “Dinner’s ready.”
She turned with a loaded, steaming plate, then walked the few steps and set it in front of him.
“Thanks. Mm, it looks good.”
“You’re welcome. Maybe I can’t land the big contracts, but I can slop up dinner well enough.”
“Uh, yes, but there will be other big contracts. And no one would call this slop.”
She set her plate down and took her seat opposite him, picked up a fork, then paused and held his gaze.
“Thanks. About both contracts and slop. Amos,”—she let her fork rest on the table—“about last night. We—”
“I really didn’t mind all that much, uh, you being more of an, um, exhibitionist.”
Pointing at him with her fork, she said, “Yes, but you sure don’t want that, like you’ve said in your profile and every message we sent.”
“Hey, I never exactly said anything about—”
“Not in so many words, Amos, no. It’s just . . . I know how you are, and I shouldn’t be doing things with the blankets like that, even if it’s just playing around.”
“And you don’t really want to, you know, be more—”
“I want to keep you happy. That’s number one. That’s not so bad, is it?”
“Well, I am happy. Yes, I’m trying to, uh, loosen up. It’s just that I’m trying to, uh, be—”
“A role model of a professor. I know. All proper. And I love that. It’s fine. Really, things are fine.”
“So, you don’t feel like you’d rather—”
She scoffed and said, “Be an exhibitionist? How have I ever given you that impression? Oh no, that would just feel weird. Besides, I know you like me being more on the modest side.”
He laughed and poked at his food.
“Long pajamas.”
“And a long robe.”
“Huh,” he said. “A really long robe. Which is perfectly fine because I already have a good idea what’s under all that.”
“And you wouldn’t want me to parade myself around, would you? I don’t think you’d want a woman like that.”
“Decidedly not. No. No parades requested.”
“So, the pajamas are what you like.”
“Yes.”
Grinning, she added, “And the robe?”
“The robe is quite attractive and, one might say, adorable.”
She looked down at her plate but still didn’t make a move for it.
“Oh, the lights,” she said. “Really, the dark is fine. It’s good.”
“Yes, no blaring lights are needed. I’m glad you understand. The night light is plenty.”
She looked up, nodded, and said, “Yeah, of course. A little bit of light is enough.”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
Each took a bite, focusing on the task of twirling spaghetti around their forks.
“I, uh, have some yard work to get to after dinner.”
She sighed, gave a glance up and saw him still looking down at his plate, then said, “Oh, the yard. Yeah. Well, I have some project notes to go through, so . . .”
Chapter 5 – Just a Sexy Party Favor
Lenore scoffed at the neat but unremarkable manicured nails on the two fingers that were about to spread open the mini blinds to give her a view of the yard. She saw that her day at the office hadn’t scuffed them at all and neither had preparing dinner, and they looked almost as modest as most of her wardrobe.
Prying open a small gap allowed one eye to see Amos many steps away at the edge of the property, fighting with large shears and trying to even out the top of the shrubs.
Glancing down only long enough to tap her phone a few times, she got her eyes back on his progress, and his distance from the house, while the rock-and-roll ringback played.
“Lenore, hey.”
“Hi, Laura. Bad time?”
“Never. Well, shit, maybe if I’m doing something perverted.”
“You’re not?” Lenore said with a laugh.
“Not at this exact moment, no. Give me a minute, though.”
“Funny. You always make me kind of jealous.”
“Uh-oh. Same old thing, huh?”
“I love Amos, I really do.”
“Uh-huh. Yep.”
“It’s just that he’s so . . . proper.”
“Huh. You wanted to add some kind of adjective there. Try it again.”
Lenore smiled, still watching Amos at work, and said, “He’s so . . . damn proper.”
“There you go. Feel better?”
“Like that would be enough. Look, I shouldn’t be venting to you all the time about the same old—”
“Yeah, you should. Lenore, we’ve been friends forever. Shit, we could even be twins.”
“Yeah, I know. We could probably change lives and it’d be weeks before anyone knew.”
“Yep. So, my dear twin girl, go ahead and vent.”
“Alright. You know I really do care for Amos.”
“You work too much, and I told you that meeting someone online was never going to—”
“Yeah, you warned me. But he’s a good guy, and I knew what I was getting into. We chatted and messaged a lot, and I knew he was, uh, kind of—”
“A prude? Gigantic stick up his—”
“Laura! I’m not trying to be mean or anything. It’s just making me crazy.”
“What, exactly? Come on. Spill it.”
“Alright. Since you asked.”
“Yep, it’s why I called you.”
“You’re too much. Alright. It’s just, I’m not an exhibitionist or anything, but he insists on the lights being off, and we have to keep the blankets pulled up, and he—”
“Oh my God. Lenore, you’re too gorgeous for a life like that. Have you tried to, uh, you know, tempt him?”
“Last night, yeah. I pulled the blankets down, which gave him a good view of my breasts, even with just the night light on.”
“Well, good. Drove him crazy, right?”
“Huh. No. He covered me back up.”
“Well, shit. Oh, Lenore. What did I just tell you he was?”
“You said he’s a . . . prude.”
“Try that again,” Laura said, laughing into her phone.
“Alright. He’s a damn prude. And I know, I swear I know, that if I keep pushing that, it wouldn’t be long before he’d decide I’m just not . . . oh, shit, not damn proper enough.”
“Good for you. You didn’t need me poking you to spit that out.”
“Oh, Laura, that’s another thing.”
“What? Something I said?”
“Yeah. Spitting it out,” she said with a droll laugh. “When we were just getting to know each other, he made some negative comments about women he knew, ones that would, uh, give . . .”
“Head?”
“Oral. I was going to say oral.”
“Such harsh language you’re using! He’s got you beat down pretty good, Lenore.”
“Hmm. Maybe. Anyway, I’m just left wondering how he couldn’t want that. I mean, who wouldn’t, right?”
“No one would turn that down. Not from you. You’re gorgeous.”
“Aw, thanks, but it’s not like I’m going around offering.”
“Hmm.”
“What was that? Anyway, if I ever suggested that again, he’d probably think I’m actually a harlot.”
“Tell me he never actually used that word.”
“Huh. More than once.”
“Oh my gosh. Well, Lenore, you should stand there totally naked the next time he walks into the bedroom.”
“Oh, he would die.”
“Or better yet, get on your hands and knees and get that ass pointing right at him. Give him some dirty talking too.”
“Dirty talk? About what?”
“You’ll know when you get started. Just say what you want, what you’ll do, what he should—”
“Laura, he’d have a heart attack. And if he survived, he wouldn’t even pack—he’d just catch the first flight back, and that would be that.”
“Which, as I’ve been saying, is about how it’s going to end up anyway.”
“God, I don’t know. This helps, though—venting to you. But it’s not enough—I’m almost sure I’ll have to call off this engagement. I don’t think there’s any way to fix this . . . situation.”
Lenore listened to the laughter for few seconds, then said, “Fine, Laura. This goddamn situation.”
“The F-bomb would have been better. Hey, I knew there’d come a day. You gave the guy a chance.”
“You think I should just end it? I mean, he really is a good guy.”
“Yeah, a guy who wants to be a saint or something. Yeah, you should end it. You’ll never be happy with all that. Shit, I think you’ve already made up your mind.”
“Uh, almost. Yeah, Laura. It’s just not easy.”
“Hey, maybe do it like a bandage: just rip the thing off.”
“You think?”
“Oh, hey, wait. I got another idea. Oh, it’s a good one too.”
“What?”
“Well. Remember back in college, how—”
“You weren’t there long.”
“Uh, no. It wasn’t for me. But we did some cheerleading and had some laughs. And you won’t admit it, but you were always kind of, uh, envious, maybe? Of how I just had my fun and said the hell with it.”
“I’ll admit it. Yeah, and I still am jealous.”
“Wishing you were having more fun?”
“Hmm. I try not to think about it too much. I might not stop.”
“That’s my point. I never gave you any steamy details, but you know that I still have some wild times, right?”
“Well, sort of. You’re kind of reliving your past with—”
“It isn’t past, and it’s not about reliving anything. Young guys, Lenore. There’s just no comparison. God, they’re like animals.”
“And you still go to that frat house?”
“Uh-huh. More often than I’ll admit. So, here’s the thing, sexy blonde that could be my absolute, identical—”
“Uh-oh. No, no, no. Don’t even say that I should—”
“Yeah. Oh, yeah. Take my place. Just the one time, and no one will know the difference.”
“I couldn’t do that.”
“Here’s the sweet thing: you don’t have to do anything. You just let those young studs do it all.”
“Laura, that’s crazy.”
“No crazier than you wearing ten layers of flannel for a guy that’s campaigning for sainthood.”
“It’s not that bad. It’s only about . . . two layers. I’ve always been curious, though. What exactly happens?”
“You want the short version?”
Lenore caught her breath at the sight of Amos dropping the shears, wiping his brow, then looking toward the house.
“Yeah, make it quick—he’s coming back inside.”
“Alright. You just show up, wait for them in the room that’s kind of special just for that, and—”
“What? You said ‘them?’ You mean, it’s not just the class president, or some guy that won a raffle, or maybe—”
“Uh-uh. Oh God, Lenore, it’s not just one of them. Tell me you’ve never thought of doing something so bad like that.”
“Oh, Laura, maybe back in the day. But I’m forty-five, and the guy or guys there are what, twenty?”
“Crazy, huh?”
“Yeah. Anything else? Hurry, I need to go.”
“Yep. The most important thing: you don’t ever say no.”
“Because—”
“Because you’re just a sexy party favor.”
“Oh, seriously?”
“Uh-huh. You’re just something to be used for sex.”
Giggling nervously, Lenore said, “I bet the lights are on too.”
“Enough. Yeah, I’m nothing but a naked party favor for them, and I’m not keeping a damn thing secret.”
“Oh my God. Um, I got to go. I’ll call you soon.”
“Sure. Let me know, sexy party favor that could be my twin.”
“Even our hair. Yeah.”
“You haven’t cut it, then, right?”
“No. Even though Amos wants me to. He bugs me about that a lot, so I tend to keep it all tied up.”
“Oh, well, a sexy party favor would let that all down. She’d show that off along with every bit of her skin.”
“Oh my God.”
“That’s being touched everywhere.”
“Oh my. Um . . .”
Laura waited a few seconds, then said, “Ha. You’re already thinking about it.”
“I, uh . . .”
Laura only laughed again, so Lenore said quickly, “Maybe I am! Got to go! Bye!”
Grinning, she tapped to end the call and stowed the phone just as the back door squealed open.