First Times: Nine Tales of Innocence Lost (17 page)

“Hey,” he said, after a while. “Lilly will be home soon. You should get cleaned up.”

I nodded. “Was it good? Did I do good?”
 

“You did great. Especially for your first time.”
 

As he left and I went to clean myself up I felt strange. I sat in the tub for a long time, soaking in the heat from the bath, but I didn’t feel clean. I fucked my sister’s husband. Two parts of me warred. I couldn’t let this happen again, but it felt so good. If she found out…
 

***

He gave me little gifts, touched my shoulders, but as the second semester wore on it happened less and less. In the summer, Lilly gave birth to a baby girl. By then the arguments had stopped and Todd slowly stopped showing me attention. We never had sex again after that. I thought about it, and I know he thought about it, but I refused.
 

It was a terrible thing I did, a betrayal, but it could have been worse. He needed release and I needed to be that release. They have two kids now, they’re still together, and I’m going to marry my boyfriend when I finish grad school.
 

His name is Jason. He always says he’s lucky to have found a girl that loves it in the ass.
 

If he only knew how I acquired that taste.

Taylor

“We can work something out. We’ll make this work, I promise.”
 

Dr. Carrington had been pressuring me on this for months. The head of the history department had something of a reputation as the ‘party professor’ around campus. People said her ‘gatherings’ could get pretty wild, and there were some pretty intense stories about the Christmas party she threw every year for her top students, but invitation only. I always found her a little intimidating. The idea of a female history professor conjures images of a beeteley woman in shapeless pantsuits with thick glasses and chalk dust in her hair, but Carrington was everything but. Taller than most men, she was a bombshell and it was said that freshmen and education majors and others that had to take cross-curricular classes in history would fight over spots in her courses, which always filled up fast. To take all her classes you had to be a history major and she had to pull strings to get you in. I ended up with her for my intro course by chance and she took a liking to me right away.
 

Sitting in her office made me feel a little uncomfortable. It shouldn’t have, I mean we were two women. As nervous as she made me, I adored her. She was everything I wanted to be and never was. Besides her height she was buxom, shapely, and graceful. She had actually done some modeling in her youth and there were some borderline lewd pinup pictures of herself on her wall in a place of prominence along with her diplomas and awards. Her flawless skin was always just tanned enough to be a lovely golden color and freckles dusted her cheeks and chin, and her hair was a lovely honey brown that was almost dirty blonde, and she made it shine. She usually wore it loose, spilling down around her shoulders. As we had the argument again, she played with it, twirling heavy soft locks of hair around her fingers as she scribbled on a pad with a fountain pen clutched between her delicate fingers. Her big blue eyes had a kind of force, pinning me down in the chair.

The upcoming trip was a big deal. Twice a year, Carrington put together class trips, one overseas and one within the United States, and spots on the trip were reserved for people taking the associated course. Now here I was, being talked into a trip I couldn’t afford. The course was covered by tuition, but the fee for the trip was more than I made in six months at my part-time job working at the record store in the mall. Yet I sat there and let Carrington write the course in on my schedule for next semester with the expectation that I would cover the costs. The trip was two weeks in Italy. Carrington had been planning this one for two years, which was, incidentally, why I had two courses in Italian as electives. The woman would not take no for an answer. We chatted about a few more things and she listened to my plans for graduate school, grinning her vulpine grin. It was settled. I was going to Italy.
 

With her.
 

The big day finally came. Carrington made a deal with me. If I kept an A average in her class, she’d cover half my costs and all my meals. That made it more manageable, but I was a few hundred short when the time came to put in my fee, and she told me not to worry about it. I ended up pacing my dorm room that night. We had to leave at three in the morning to catch the flight, so I paced and paced until two, then put on my backpack and grabbed my suitcases and trundled down the stairs, much to the relief of my sleepy roommate. From there it was half a block to the College Center and the vans. Carrington had her hair pulled into a severe ponytail and was dressed in sweats. Seeing her that was a shock compared to her usual designer suits and heels. Even without added heigh from her shoes, she was still imposing and of a height with most of the boys going on the trip.
 

“Taylor!” she called as I drew near. “Here, put your bags in this compartment.”
 

There were three big white vans with the college livery painted on the side. Of course, I was going to be putting my bags in the first one in line, and Carrington was probably driving. There were two other professors going, and two alumni, chaperones in all but name. The rest were the students in the class, fifteen of us in all. Carrington helped me heft my bags into the back of the van and took my arm. Her soft fingers gripped my wrist tightly, her thumb moving lazily over the side of my hand. She grinned at me and almost shoved me into the front seat, giving me pride-of-place. I would be riding to the airport next to her. She must have already down half of the absurdly tall coffee cup sitting next to her seat, and she gulped down even more after she slid in to place. She turned around to face the rest of the students.
 

“Buckle up,” she chirped, grinning.
 

She turned to me and lowered her voice as she tugged the gearshift down. “This is going to be so much fun. You’ll see. You have your passport, right?”

I yawned, and nodded.
 

“You can sleep on the way to the airport, if you want. Once we get on the plane everybody should get a few hours of rest.”
 

I didn’t need to be told. I nodded in agreement and then nodded off.
 

When I woke up, My head was resting on her shoulder. I pulled away like I’d set my cheek on a hot stove and she smirked and gave me the side-eye.
 

“Are we close?” I yawned.
 

“We’ll be at the airport in ten.”
 

We were leaving from Philadelphia. I did my best to perk myself up a bit as our little wagon train pulled off I-95 and flowed up the big, sweeping ramp that headed around towards the airport garage.
 

“Here,” she said, pulling her coffee from the cup. “Red Alert double-mocha. I saved you a couple of swigs.”
 

I took it and winced at the bitterness of the cold coffee.

“Thanks,” I choked, slipping the now empty cup back.
 

We pulled into the long-term garage and Carrington led the little procession to the next-to-top, mostly empty floor. From there we all saddled up. Carrington had the most luggage of all of us, and her million watt smile put most of it into the hands of the young men joining us on the trip. As did one of mine. I ended up with only my backpack and rolling suitcase. From there to baggage check, and then to cheek in. They had those spinny backscatter machines, and to my surprise, when it was Carrington’s turn, she looked right at the bored TSA official.
 

“You’re going to feel me up anyway. I’m not getting in that thing.”
 

She was waved through, and glanced back at me and winked as one of the agents ran the backs of her hands over Carrington’s ample chest. By then I was already through the backscatter machine and scrambling to get my shoes on. Carrington slipped into a pair of Crocs and walked over, patting my shoulder.
 

“It’s too bad there wasn’t a spider in the irradiator machine. You’d get superpowers.”
 

I gave her a look as I stood up, and wilted. I hated looking at her too hard. She was so perfect, so graceful and beautiful and the little hints of crows feet around her eyes and the single thin strip of silver amid the gold of her hair only made her look regal and wise. I rubbed my arms and grabbed my carry-on.
 

“Taylor, loosen up a little,” she said. “I know this is a class, but let’s have fun, okay?”
 

“Yes, ma’am,” I said.
 

“Enough of that,” she said. “Call me Sheila.”
 

“Okay,” I said.
 

“You’re sitting next to me.”
 

“Our seats are assigned.”
 

She let her hair down and flipped it over her shoulder with a flick of her head. “Like I care.”
 

Smirking, standing with her hips cocked to the side and her silken hair over one shoulder and draped over one eye, she was sex on legs. There were a lot of rumors about her. She was unmarried, but people said there was a divorce in the past. I’d never been to any of the parties. I wasn’t a party girl. If it even got back to my parents that I was dating, I could say goodbye to my tuition. Once the whole group was through security, we started drifting towards our gate. Sheila took my arm and led me over to an overpriced coffee shop with her, and we sat away from the others while she drank yet another gigantic cup off coffee and crossed her long legs. Even in sweats they were amazing. I felt skinny and awkward next to her.
 

“I’ll buy you a cup, if you want.”
 

I was clutching my backpack, terrified by all the signs warning me unattended luggage would be seized and destroyed. I imagined my backpack with my little computer and notebooks being carried out to the middle of a field by one of those robots, then exploded.
 

“No, thanks. I don’t drink coffee.”
 

“Wait here.”
 

She got up, leaving her little carry on by mine, and came back with a shorty of something fragrant.
 

“Drink it.”
 

“But-“
 

She sat down and looked over at me. When she sat down she… bounced. Every part of her was rock hard muscle, smooth and contoured and shapely, except her ample bosom. She took a sip of coffee, eyeing me the whole time. I finally tipped back my cup and winced at the heat. It was good, though, the bitter mixing with sweet, and sugary. It was almost like some kind of hot milkshake, with caramel and dark chocolate flavors all twisted together.
 

“Is this what you’re having?”
 

She nodded.

“Aren’t these like two million calories?”
 

“About a thousand, I think.”
 

I blinked. “How do you say so thin”
 

She threw her head back and laughed. A couple of businessmen, probably there to catch a red-eye, looked over and admired her. She didn’t notice.
 

“I work out a lot. I’m letting myself go a little during out trip, but I put in two hours a day in the gym.” She took another slug. “My mother would tell you it just all goes to my chest.”

I looked away quickly and felt my cheeks turn beet red. In spite of myself I looked back over the rims of my glasses, at her chest. It sounds silly but I was so jealous of her looks. I felt flat as a board, short, and boyish next to her. Sometimes I thought about other things, things that confused me. I was supposed to like boys. I made myself like boys. My parents were very strict and since they were covering the cost of my education (this trip excluded) they had final say over most everything in my life. My mother explicitly told me that I was not to date until my junior year and I had to bring any boys I intended to see socially to meet her first, and that I was not to have sex before marriage. I was somehow expected to lock myself up in my room and study study study and produce grandchildren for her after I latched onto some young doctor. I even had to pick an acceptable major for a young woman, as my father put it. He gave me a choice between education, history, and business. I wanted to be a nurse but that was too ‘low’ for him, so I picked history. I liked reading.
 

I liked Sheila.
 

The boys in my classes were just there, but Sheila, she glowed. She made the world flat and lifeless around her, like she pulled all its color into herself. I thought the most awful things about her. I thought about running my fingers through her silky hair, touching her soft silken skin, of unbuttoning her designer blouses and feeling the weight of her ample breasts in my hand. I thought of other things, too. I wanted to kiss her. Not just on the lips, other places too. I don’t know where the idea came from.
 

I twisted my coffee cup in my fingers and stared away from her. I was awful, perverse. She would be horrified if she knew what I was thinking about her.
 

In spite of the massive blast of caffeine, she yawned.
 

“Let’s go,” she said.
 

She downed her coffee and I downed mine. I was a lightweight and the caffeine made me feel like I was going to start jumping up and down as waited in the boarding line to check our passes. Sheila walked along behind me even as we boarded the plane, and gave me the window seat. After I tucked my bag into the overhead compartment she did the same and I had to endure being inches away from
 
her bust as she stretched over me to reach the compartment. When she stretched her sweatshirt pulled tight around all her curves and my heart raced even more. Once she dropped into her seat and our arms were rubbing she turned away from the other student sitting in the aisle seat and looked at me. She turned more, until her legs were pressed against mine. It was about five in the morning when the plane finally took off.