tagExhibitionist & VoyeurDissolute: The Vanderbilt Years Ch. 02

Dissolute: The Vanderbilt Years Ch. 02

bya_libertine©

This is the second chapter of the first of three separate, inter-related series of stories of Shane's life.

The first set of stories is Dissolute: The Vanderbilt Years; the second is Abnegation; the third is Libidinous. Because of the way I am writing them, I have designed each series to more or less stand-alone and will not have too much interconnectivity. There may be some historical information that is given in the Dissolute stories that is referred to in the later stories, I will endeavor though to keep that to a minimum.

As always, please vote. There are five stars at the end of the story, choose one, it only takes an additional second or two; let me know how I did.

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Everyone in the story is 18 years of age or older.


*

I woke the morning after making love to my professor's wife with the weight of the world on my chest. I knew God had damned me for my actions the previous day; that his judgment would be swift and righteous.

The first judgment of God was going to be Dr. Nieman himself. He was going to come over here thrash me then once done thrashing me he was bound to cut my dick off and shove it somewhere unwanted.

The second of the judgments, the scariest, was I was going to get kicked out of Vanderbilt. Although not a seminary school, it was an excellent foundational education for seminary. What seminary would take a student kicked out of college for fornicating with his professor's wife? Are they forgiving enough to overlook fucking your professor's wife?

Somehow, I did not think so.

The third judgment was Poppa. When I got kicked out, Pops would come off the mountain to lay an ass whipping on me that would make a sparring match between Jerome Atkinson, who was the world champion at my weight class in karate in 1984, and myself seem even. The whole family generally agreed that leaving Pops on the mountain was a good thing for all, especially me. Pops never had an education above the fifth grade, working since 12 or so, day and night. It was by his backbreaking labor, a promise to Momma made by him, that I would never ever be in the same position as he, that I was in college at all.

Pops had helped Uncle Ed get an education, an apprenticeship at a church. Over the course of a few years, Uncle Ed took advantage of the opportunity and began his own church, which was turning out well. It gave him the chance to help Pops help me.

Uncle Ed paid part of my tuition, pops the apartment. The rest was Pell grant money and scholarships. I had always been a good student, mindful of the fact that Pop did what he could for me to help me get our family out of poverty and into 'society' as he called it.

Now my cock might be messing it all up.

The last thing was of course the fear of eternal damnation. I prayed to God for forgiveness all morning long. Beseeching Him to take a lowly sinner back into His hands, part of me knew that it was in vain. God's forgiveness has a requisite of repentance.

Though I was terribly sorrowful that I had lain with another man's wife, I knew that if she knocked on the door as I said "Amen" I would do it again. I was not repentant. Not being repentant, I could not expect God's forgiveness.

That single though shocked me out of my prayers. I sat there dumbfounded, looking at my Bible. I knew with certainty that my answers were in it, but not yet. It certainly was not today, probably not tomorrow either. Tears flowed down my face as I sobbed at the loss of the one thing that meant anything at all to me; my relationship with my Savior. Had I been crying out "Lord, Lord" all this time and He finally took a moment to illustrate that He didn't know me?

I was vaguely aware that the phone rang while I sat staring at my Bible. I looked in horror at the answering machine as I heard Dr. Nieman's voice, "...told me about yesterday. I hope you enjoyed yourself as much as she did. Anyway, give me a call when you get up, I believe you have the number already." My ass clenched so hard I almost pissed myself listening to him.

Then it registered.

He did not sound mad. He sounded like he did when I helped one of the students last year with a concept they did not seem to get: Pleased. How could he be pleased that I had fucked his wife all afternoon? She TOLD HIM!?! There is no way she told him. Or was there? It was unfathomable to me that their marriage would be such that he allowed her to fuck his students.

Then, she did point out that he brought me to his house to workout for a reason. Did they stage the phone call from the congressional representative's office? Helen wasn't it?

My head hurt. It was too much thinking, too early in the morning. I had a dojo visit in to talk to the Sensei to see what he and the dojo was like. It proved to be a nice distraction. It was a great place, the sensei and I got along very well. He offered to take me on, but instead of having me pay for lessons, all I had to do is teach a class for each one I took. Being on a college freshman's budget, I readily agreed.

After the dojo visit, I arrived at my small studio apartment to see Dr. Nieman's Cadillac next to the spot I normally parked. A heavy fearful sigh left me as I pulled in looking over at Rich. Sitting in the car reading a paper it appeared he did not notice that I pulled in. I got out of the old Buick, tapped on the passenger window and motioned for him to follow me.

Not waiting to see what he did, I headed to the apartment, a big part of me hoping that he didn't follow, but I also knew that he was. I glanced over my shoulder to see an amused smile plastered to his face. I opened the door to the apartment letting us in.

"Hi Shane." Dr Nieman said, his eyes affixed on me.

I could not help myself I must have looked like the kid with his hand in the cookie jar as I stared down at my toes muttering, "Hi Dr. Nieman."

"Are you worried about yesterday?" Dr Nieman started. Damn him. His penchant to go straight for the kill was right there in my face, this time I was the prey.

"Yeah. A lot actually. I mean, your wife and I, we, uh." I stammered along trying to avoid telling him what we did.

Dr. Nieman's voice was carefully neutral as he said, "Yes she told me about it. In fact, she was positively giddy at what you did for her. Apparently you started picking up on what her body was doing toward the end?"

I looked up at him, feeling my face flush as I said. "Not so hard when she spends so much time telling you what to do. After a while you just have to notice."

Dr. Nieman's laugh could not have shocked me more than, if he had kicked me in the balls. I looked up as he said, "It only took me ten years of marriage to get to that point, son."

My jaw dropped as I looked at him in disbelief. His head bobbed up and down as he went on, "I didn't always practice what I preach to you guys in class. But once I started to, then relationships came much easier."

I blurted out, "You aren't mad?" Dr Nieman shook his head no. I screamed "WHY NOT!"

Dr. Nieman's face took on a sorrowful look as he said, "Because I love her. Look, I cannot physically do the things that she wants done. Like sex." Waving vaguely at his crotch, "I just don't get as excited as I used to, about anything. Occasionally, I get aroused, when I do, I do not share. But those days are fewer and fewer."

He sat down on the sturdier of the two chairs I had saying, "So faced with a possible divorce or letting Ann have her fun, I agreed to allow her to have her fun, but only with the people I choose. It works for us, Shane. Is it what I would choose if circumstances were different? No. However, they are what they are. I love Anne too much to allow my pride to make me divorce her."

"So you brought me over to be stud service for your wife and everything else was a sham?" I asked. My blood was beginning to boil at the thought he strung me along just so I could be a walking talking vibrator for his wife.

"A sham? No Shane, it was not even secondary to you making love to my wife. The fact that you had sex with Anne was a bonus." Dr. Nieman looked squarely at me saying firmly, "I will mentor you if you will accept it, whether you fuck my wife again or not." Shrugging a wry grin split his face, "But if you won't Ann may come over here to talk to you about your decision making abilities."

"Soooo..." I drew out the so, allowing myself a moment to think, "So you want, Ann wants, me to continue the stud service for her." Dr. Nieman nodded his head in reply. "Man, Rich. This is...This is weird. I don't know."

"You think your side is weird, try being the guy asking another man to go fuck his wife." There was a smile on his face, but something about the way he said it, or maybe the tone of it, led me to believe he wasn't all that fond of allowing his wife to fuck others.

I sat in the wobbly chair my face planted into the palms of my hands. "So weird, Rich; this is freaking weird."

I felt his hand on my shoulder gently trying to comfort me. He sat there not saying anything letting me sort it out on my own. After a very long while, I lifted my face from my hands and looked up at him. He was so stable looking, sitting there as if he knew everything that would happen, when and why. I stood up and went to the fridge, asking, "Beer?"

"Yeah thanks, Shane."

Pulling out two natural lights I handed one to him and sat back down. "So how would this work?" I asked.

Rich nodded explaining patiently, "It's simple really. When you have free time over the summer, come over to the house. Ann wants you to learn how to please a woman. Think of it as sex mentoring if you want."

"Hell of an apprenticeship program you have." I quipped.

He laughed and said, "You have no idea. If you are agreeable to the concept, we will hammer out the details later. In the meantime, Ann would like you to meet her at Levy's to purchase you a couple of suits."

"I don't need suits, Rich. I have fourteen of them hanging in the closet." I laughed at his expression as I walked over to the tiny closet and opened it. It was crammed full of suits, sport coats, ties, dress shirts, and slacks. "In fact I need more room, not suits."

Rich laughed a little asking, "Why so many at your age?"

"Church, I wear suits to church. Every year when they are on sale at Dillard's or somewhere like that, I buy two of them with shirts and ties. As they get threadbare or do not fit, I replace them. Fourteen seems to be a good number for me to own, that way I wear a different suit each week, at the end of a three month cycle I change out the shirt and tie allowing me a different look every week of the year."

Rich nodded, and said, "Good. How are you on less formal wear? Like something not jeans, not slacks?"

"There's an intermediary step?" I asked. "My social calendar is usually pretty informal and nothing more than jeans are usually necessary. If it is, I wear a pair of slacks without a jacket."

"You'll attend most of the events we have at the house this summer. Swimming suits will be fine for some; suits for some, the majority will be slacks and collared shirts." Rich said.

"Okay, but why?"

"Ann is going to knock the rough edges off of your mannerisms, speech, and so on. Once she is ready, I will help you get a part time job that will pay like it was full time."

In jeopardy of sounding like a stuck record, I belted out, "Okay, but why?"

Rich laughed and said, "If you are really going to go into politics, no time like the present. I know a congressional representative who owes me a favor that has an opening. I will get you the interview, but it is up to you to convince him to hire you. All it is is an opportunity."

I stood there a moment in shock then nodded my head, saying, "Thanks, Rich, I really appreciate it. I don't know how I will ever be able to repay you."

"Make my wife scream boy. Make her scream." Rich said.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It had been a fun filled, interesting month. The first thing Ann did was teach me to kiss. Who knew there was an art form to it? I certainly did not but by July 1, I was a near expert at it, or so I led myself to believe. After my kissing lessons with Ann began, I went to a club nearly every night practicing my technique out on women my age. During the day between classes, I would try quick hitter pickup lines, eventually finding out that if I introduced it as a psych experiment, most of the women I encountered were willing to give me a quick kiss. The trick was to turn that quick kiss into a longer more sensuous kiss. As the number of these little pecks began to bloom into full-blown kisses, I knew I was making progress.

It was during that time I was at a nightclub on a Friday night that I spotted a blonde that had that eternal cheerleader look about her. She was maybe five foot four, small breasts, maybe a full 'A' cup, with a tight athletic body underneath her chest. A bubble butt that was firm and round swayed enticingly whenever she took a step. Her thighs best described as thunder thighs. They were muscular, a little thicker than thin, just thinner than thick. She was wearing a short black skirt that billowed out in a cloud around her white a white tank top. She had a black lace bra underneath her nipples jutting out slightly. She did not appear to be wearing stockings from across the bar. She wore black heels that appeared to be about three inches in height.

Her skin was flush from exertion and alcohol. I walked over to her as she left the dance floor, asking, "Would you like to dance?"

To my relief, she shook her head no asking, "How about a drink instead? I'm all hot from dancing already."

I nodded and asked, "What's your pleasure?"

"I'll have a margarita, on ice, no salt." She said.

I headed off to the bar, ordered her a margarita, and then returned, holding it off to a side, "Here it is, but it'll cost ya." I said with a smile.

A coy look crossed her face asking, "Oh? What's the price?"

Replying, I grinned like a wild man, "Either your name or a kiss, your choice."

"Sarah," She said. "My name is Sarah."

I handed her the glass, "Hi Sarah, I am Shane. May I?" I was pointing at the seat next to her she then patted on the bench next to her. I sat down a couple of inches away from her but could feel the heat coming off her in waves, a fine patina of perspiration covering her skin.

It struck me as I watched her face that she was extraordinarily beautiful. Sarah must have glimpsed me gawking at her, as she snapped her head in my direction and asked sharply, "What?"

I shook my head, swallowed around the lump in my throat, then managed to blurt, "Nothing. Sorry about staring."

"You like?" There was playfulness to her question that was hard to miss.

I smiled responding, "Hard not to like. You are very beautiful."

Laughingly, Sarah said, "I bet you say that all the time."

I had to agree; so I did. "Especially, when it is true of the person I am saying to."

Sarah sat there a moment her eyes searching my face, looking for what I did not know. After a minute or two, she nodded, said, "Excuse me, I'll be back in a moment," then left.

I watched her leave; she had a sway to her ass that was a marvel to behold, each footfall landing on the outside of the other foot, accentuating her natural movement provocatively. After a couple minutes, I began to get the idea she blew me off. I was about to leave when a tall good-looking dark haired woman sat down next to me. "Hi."

"Hi yourself;" I responded, "hey, have you seen Sarah?"

"No, did she go to the bathroom?" The woman asked.

"No idea. Well, I'll see you around." I got up heading toward the bar to talk to a guy in one of my classes that I had spotted earlier. After a couple of minutes with him, I started toward the front of the bar to leave. I was almost out the front door when a small hand wrapped around my arm, just above the elbow, "Hey, you aren't leaving are you?" I heard.

I turned around; Sarah was standing there, still holding my arm. Suddenly I felt warm though the source of which was the small arm holding me in place, the heat was emanating from my groin. "Yeah I was. I figured you were blowing me off."

Sarah screwed her face up into a scrunched look and asked, "Why didn't you wait for me?"

"Same answer as before?" I asked back. "Look, I am not the waiting around type. If you wanted me to sit there after talking to you for a couple of minutes, you should have said something, like 'I'm going to the girl's room.' "

"Most guys wait much longer for me." Sarah had an almost petulant look to her.

I almost laughed, but grinned as I said, "I am sure you are worth the time investment. But I value communication more than an unreasonable hope to score."

I was turning to leave again when Sarah tugged on my arm again, "Are you hear to pick some one up or just mess with their head?"

"Yes" was my response. "Tell you what, someone in here has my phone number, if you are really interested, get it then call me tomorrow. I'll be at the apartment all day."

The look on Sarah's face was priceless as I turned away. It was not until I was outside that I marveled at the fact I could and did walk away from her. In fact, it was stunning really.

The next morning at 9:00 the shrill clanging of the phone woke me. I answered it groggily, "Mmm, 'lo?"

"Did I wake you?" came a female voice that I couldn't place at the moment.

"Yeah, but that's okay. What's up?" I asked.

I heard the voice on the other end giggle while asking, "Do you know who this is?"

"You'll tell me soon enough or I will figure it out when I wake up fully." I replied. It was really too early in the morning for mind games. That is when I figured out who it was. "Call me back Sarah when you are ready to talk to me and not play mind games, okay?"

The phone was halfway to the cradle when I heard, "Wait! Shane! Don't hang up."

I brought the phone back to my ear, "Yes?"

"Look, don't hang up on me. Please?" Something about her voice was different; it stirred something deep in me, my morning hard on took on a different feel all together. It was pleading, almost a desperate sound to her that stopped me.

I heard my voice say, "Why shouldn't I?"

"I'll stop testing you, I..I...I..." It sounded like she was close to tears, though I could not figure out why she would be crying. Then my jaw dropped when I heard, "I'll do anything you want to see you again."

Saturday morning, laundry day. The most boring hour of the week, so I thought I would spice it up. "You know the laundry mat on Murphy Road? Squeeky Klean?"

"Yes, I do and it's not." Sarah offered.

Laughing, "I know. Meet me there precisely at 11:00." I hung up the phone wondering if Sarah would be there or not.

I arrived at the Laundromat around 10:45; then loaded up four machines with my weeks' worth of laundry. I was moving them to the dryer at 11:10 or so when Sarah finally breezed in. She was wearing a summer dress that was a gossamer yellow cotton material. I could see her nipples standing firm against the fabric as she came up to me.

"You're late" I said.

Sarah flushed a moment and asked, "Yes?"

I nodded holding my arm out so she could see my watch. She muttered an unconvincing, "I'm sorry."

Roy was the only other person in the Laundromat with us. He was in here every Saturday as I was. He was standing on the other side of the room from us, not paying us much mind. I leaned into Sarah and whispered, "Ten minutes means ten lashes with my belt. You want them now or twenty later?"

Sarah's face turned red as her breath caught in her throat, "I uh, I uh, don't want any."

"Then leave." I turned my back on her, picked up the newspaper. I could feel Sarah's presence next to me as I faked reading an article. After a couple of minutes, I lowered the paper asking, "You're still here?"

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