Chapter 8
How good was Joan's instruction? How well did George learn?
About ten days after his initial indoctrination into the beautiful arena of sex, the teacher and the student happened to meet in the apartment hallway.
"Joan," George began, whispering, but in an excited voice, "I've got to tell you. Three or four days after you and I ... after we ... well, you know what I mean. Anyway, I had my first girl. Besides you, I mean."
He was so excited and anxious to tell her the news that she had to slow him down so she could understand.
"Take it easy, George," she laughed. "You're going to blow your mind."
"Sorry," he said, but continued to talk. "Anyway, I met this girl in school who every boy had tried to make, but not many had, at least from what I understand. She's not a virgin, though. I found that out myself."
"Well, well, well," Joan smiled. "Looks like you now have it made."
"Oh, yeah. I just followed some of the tricks you showed me and that girl went crazy. When we were through, she hung onto me like I was the greatest ever. Evidently, she let the word out, because three or four other girls-friends of hers-have been talking to me lately, making hints about us getting together. All kinds of good things."
Joan had a triumphant smile on her face as she watched George walk down the hall. What used to be a shy, quiet boy was now a confident, outgoing teenager.
Hmmm, she thought, as she strolled to her apartment. Wonder if I could set up a school for the instruction of untapped teenage boys? Don't know how the market would be, but there would certainly be a helluva lot of fun in it-for me! She laughed loudly as she turned on the shower, undressed, and stepped into the warm water.
Joan was to go through a strange yet, in the end, rewarding two days. Del Peterson, after a three-week absence, had finally returned to the agency. Joan was so glad to see him that she almost threw her arms around his neck right there in the office. Restraining herself, though, she escorted him into his office. Once inside, he pulled her to him and they kissed, long and lovingly, a kiss that expressed his joy at seeing her, just as much as she had missed him.
Joan and Del were unable to consummate their reunion, at least, not right away. The agency's reputation was one of the fastest rising in the city. New clients flocked to its doors and a heavy workload was being suffered by all employees, especially Del. He was busily interviewing and hiring new admen, but couldn't keep ahead of the work. He had wanted to take the weekend off so he and Joan could go to the beach house. But no sooner had he returned to Los Angeles than he was scheduled for a series of meetings that extended into the weekend.
The desire for some time alone was felt even more by Joan. His absence had affected her greatly, more than she ever realized it would.
Oh, she had had sex with George and he had turned her on. And the married client who didn't want intercourse had given her a few treats. But Del, she now felt, was the only man who could really satisfy her in every way-sexual happiness, companionship, security. Everything a woman wanted, he possessed. She knew it, and wanted to talk with him about their future, if they had one together, and learn how he felt about her.
Knowing they would not be able to be alone for the coming weekend, Joan left the office Friday afternoon in a dejected mood. Seldom were her spirits ever down, but they were at an all-time low as she parked her car and trudged up the stairs to her empty apartment.
Joan took a shower, dried off and slipped into a robe. She started to prepare something to eat, had it half-done, then threw it on the counter.. She wasn't hungry. She sat on the sofa, gazing at the darkness coming through the large picture window. Several times Joan started for the phone to call Del, but each time she hesitated. She knew he was busy in conference even at this late hour. Perhaps she was being unfair to him. After all, he did have a business to run, customers to take care of and employees depending on him. No, she'd wait, until a better time. She knew there would be days for them. She would have to wait.
Joan turned on the television and sat down on the couch. One of show business's greatest comedians was on the air, but his jokes were lost on the lonely figure sitting hunched on the big, overstuffed sofa. Her eyes were on the program, but her mind was five miles away, at the Peterson Agency, on Del. Even the doorbell, when it sounded, couldn't bring her out of her reverie. Finally, after the third or fourth ring, it broke the trance. Jumping up, she hurried to the door. Maybe it's Del!
Disappointment plainly showed on her face when she saw Bill Garrison standing there.
"Hey, beautiful," he said, noticing the strange look on her face. "I'm not Satan, you know."
"You might as well be," she commented, disgustedly. "What do you want?"
"I came by to check your plumbing," he replied, pushing past her and walking into the room.
"My plumbing's fine," she said, slamming the door. "Bill, why don't you get the hell out of here! Where's your wife, anyway? Don't you think you should be with her?"
"The little lady has gone to town, to a meeting at her church. She won't be back for hours. We have all kinds of time to...."
"I don't want all kinds of time, Bill, for anything. I want to be alone. So, please, just go."
Garrison was having none of that. He had come here for a purpose and he intended to have what he came after. Walking to the window, he pulled the heavy drapes closed. There was no way anyone could see in.
"Don't talk like that, Joan," he said, smiling lustfully at her, undressing as he did. "After all, I'm the man who knows how to turn you on, remember? I can make your body beg for my dick, and don't you forget it."
He was naked now, and she could see he was ready for bed-rolling. His cock was straight out and the large purple head seemed to be aching for satisfaction. He stepped closer and untied the robe covering her beautiful body.
"I never get tired of looking at you, Joan," he said, seriously, "with or without clothes."
He pulled her to him and kissed her hard on the mouth. She felt his hard core press against her mound, but did not respond in any way. When he finally broke away, he took a tit in each hand and massaged the huge melons. Even when he ran a finger over the sensitive tips, she didn't respond.
Joan realized that this was unusual for her.
Normally, she would at least be feeling a sensation between her legs, but nothing had happened. She knew her mood wasn't the best for lovemaking, but thought her body would eventually respond to him. It wouldn't be through her own willingness, because she was more turned off by him tonight than she had been the other time, but through the emotional reaction of her body, which was naturally hot.
Joan didn't fight him. Let him do what he wants, she told herself. Let him build me up so I'll join in and fuck right along with him. Who gives a damn. Anyway, when he's finished, then he'll leave.
Bill steered her to the couch and placed her on her back. He leaned over and sucked her tits, at the same time letting his fingers travel through the downy hair between her legs, and onto the cunt lips. Joan closed her eyes and waited for her body to begin heating.
Garrison worked for five or ten minutes on the tantalizing creature, but got no response. Joan was amazed that by this time her body wasn't leaping and humping all over the place. He was doing everything that usually turned her on-sucking her nipples, fingering her cunt-everything. She didn't respond to any of it. She just lay there, limp and disinterested.
He had succeeded in getting her box wet, and climbed between her shapely legs. Spreading them far apart, he laid his stiff prick at the opening to paradise and pushed onward. Joan grunted as his big tool slid into her box. She didn't even lift her hips, however, as his dick slid along her walls and stopped only when it banged against the far end of her cunt.
Having reached his goal, Bill pumped slowly and evenly, bringing the head of his hard penis all the way out to the lips, and then ramming it home. Joan, her eyes closed, grunted each time his prick hit against the end of her love channel. Regardless of her lack of response, it didn't take him long to shoot off. He shoved his porker all the way in, as far as he could get it, and painted her walls. Joan felt the fluid spray her snatch, but didn't even open her eyes. She continued to lie there, motionless, unresponsive as his jizz filled her snizz to the brim.
Bill pulled his shriveled cock from her flooded hole. Looking at her, he was surprised to find her body quiet, her eyes closed, and not the slightest reaction to his balling her. He thought he could still get her in the mood, so he buried his face between her gams and nibbled her cunt lips.
Joan knew that his south-side action would surely bring her body to the boiling point. He sucked the labia, pulled them into his mouth and chewed on them, then darted his tongue in and out of her wet hole. Nothing. After five minutes of what would normally be torture for the hot-natured girl, Joan was still lying there, silently, unmoving, as if she were immune to his love play.
Bill, realizing his muff-munching was getting him nowhere, moved from the couch. Wiping his face, he stood in the center of the room and looked at the gorgeous, naked figure spread out before him.
"What the hell's wrong with you, woman? I've done everything I can and you still lie there, like two damn boards pushed together."
For the first time, Joan opened her eyes and stared at him.
"That should tell you something. You got what you wanted. Why don't you put on your clothes. Your wife will be back soon. Maybe she can respond to you."
"You're damn right, I will, you bitch," he said, angrily grabbing his pants and shirt. "You're not the only piece of ass in this town."
He continued mumbling as he dressed. Joan paid little attention to him. She reached over and picked up the robe from the floor. Covering her body, she looked at him as he stomped toward the door.
"Bill," she said, "this is the last time you'll come in this apartment unless I ask you to. Understand?"
"Sure, baby, sure," he replied, not believing her. "Don't worry. I didn't mean to blow my top. I'll come back again, when you're in a better mood."
He turned and started for the door. This time, the tone of her voice stopped him in his tracks. He didn't even turn as she spoke.
"I mean it, Bill. You've climbed on top of me for the last time. There will be no more, regardless of what mood I'm in. Understand it-and remember it."
Her words were firm, determined, strong. Garrison knew she meant what she said. He had had his last piece of ass from Joan Willis. Without replying, he slowly opened the door and stepped into the hall, closing the door quietly behind him.
Joan stayed on the couch, with the lights out, staring into the darkness. The mystery of why she had not responded to Bill, despite her dislike for the man, puzzled her. Could it be that she was losing interest in sex? Were men beginning to turn her off?
These and many other questions fogged her mind as Joan slowly, almost reluctantly, dropped off into a fitful sleep, there on the couch, covered only by her robe.
It was eight-thirty before Joan awakened the following morning. A small ray of sunshine peeked through a slit in the heavy drapes that Bill had closed the night before. She lay there several minutes, staring at the beam of light as it made a pattern on the plush pile carpet.
Her mind went back to last night, to Bill Garrison, to her lack of response to him. Why? Why had she been unable to react to his love play? Never in her life had she been able to resist a man sucking her nipples. And when anyone ate her pussy, no matter who, she went wild, humping, groaning, grunting. Yet, last night, nothing; an absolute zero. Why?
When an image of Del Peterson appeared in her mind, she thought she had found the answer. Jumping from the couch, she put on her robe and hurried to the telephone. Dialing his apartment, she heard the phone ring a dozen times or more, but no answer. Then it crossed her mind. He had another conference this morning at the office.
She hated to bother him there, during business, and was probably silly for doing so. But her mind was boggled. She had to get her senses straight. She had to find out if what she was feeling deep down was real. She dialed the office and had to use all her clout to get put through to him.
Her heart almost stopped when she heard his voice.
"Del," she said, trying to be as calm as possible, "I know you're in conference, and I hate to bother you...."
"Joan? I have a couple of people here talking about some ads they want for a new television spot. Hold on and I'll go to your desk."
"Del," she said, apologetically, feeling better just hearing his voice, "I really shouldn't be bothering you like this, especially now. I'll talk to you later."
"Hush, and don't you dare hang up that phone. I'll be on the other line in a few seconds."
His voice was kind, gentle. She smiled as she waited to hear him speak again.
"Okay, sweet stuff," he said, "what do you have on that beautiful mind of yours?"
Clients be damned! She could tell that he would sit there all day and talk to her if she wanted. Tears came to her eyes.
"Del, do you think there's any way we could get to the beach house this weekend? I want to talk to you."
There was a long pause on the other end of the line and fear crept into Joan's heart. Was she pushing? Had she misjudged Del?
"Del, are you there?"
"Yes, Joan, I'm here. Listen, I'm going to call Chuck Dearing and have him take care of the people I have here now. Do you still have your key to the house?"
"Yes, Del, but I don't want to pull you away from business. I know how...."
"Joan," he interrupted in a firm voice, "I did a lot of thinking while I was in New York, and I want to talk to you, too. I want ... Honey, there's too much to go into on the phone. Go on to the beach house. As soon as I can get Chuck over here, I'll leave. But I'll have to brief him, so I might not be able to leave for another hour or two. You go ahead, and I'll get there as soon as I can."
"Okay, Del," she replied, feeling much better already. "But hurry."
"You know I will," he answered, in a tender, yet anxious, voice. "Oh, by the way."
"Yes?"
"Stop on the way and pick up a few groceries for the weekend. Okay?"
"You bet," she said, happily.
Joan raced to the shower and scrubbed like she had never scrubbed before. She wanted all traces of Bill Garrison removed from her body. If there had been a way to wash the interior of her pussy to rid it of any hint that he had ever filled her box with semen, she would have washed there, too.
Once finished with the shower, Joan packed a few things in a small overnight bag, looked around the apartment, then headed for the door. Stopping with her hand on the knob, she returned to the bedroom, opened the closet door, and pulled out the sexy, sheer nightgown she had worn that one night she and Del had spent at the beach house. Folding it carefully, she packed it on top of the other items, closed the case and locked the door behind her as she left the apartment.