Sex Club for Nerds and Geeks Ch. 08byPeterspeter©
"We're the only psychological research going this summer," said Professor Draper ("call me Don," he instructed when he hired me to do video for his research project this summer). He and Anna, his assistant, were showing me the place where Anna and I would be working the next seven weeks.
The lab looked like what you see on TV cop shows — mirrored glass wall with an observation room behind it, a metal table and two metal chairs, no windows. Add the reception area and you had room 402 in the psych building.
Don had offered me the job because he needed someone immediately, someone who could process, upload, and store large computer files. I certainly wasn't hired because I knew anything about videography. I'm a photographer.
But here I was, at the earliest stage of setting up the technical side of his research project, which involved video-recording a hundred and fifty interviews, each lasting about forty minutes.
"You want to tape the guy you're interviewing head on, right?" I ventured. Don nodded.
"Well, since the room is so narrow, the camera either goes behind the glass or I set up at the end."
"If you're in the room, they'll be distracted. We'd have to build a wall to hide you," said Anna.
Naah," said Don, "we don't have the money and the administration'll never spring for the cost."
"Can you shoot through the glass?" Anna asked.
"I've never shot anything through glass. Let's look," I said, and we moved to the observation room.
"Won't work," I concluded. "The mirroring makes the glass cloudy and the glass is pretty thick, it'll create distortion."
"What we have here is a problem," said Don.
"Could you get another place?"
"This is it." He looked glum.
"I've seen ads for remote cameras that are really small," I said, tentatively. "They're about the size of a fist. They have good lenses and a wireless connection, so I could run it from my laptop and control the camera from here. You wouldn't need to build anything and they'll never see me."
"I thought you didn't know anything about video," said Don.
"I don't, but I do know how much it changes things when the subject is constantly reminded he's being watched."
I was thinking. "Doesn't the university have a distant learning program going?"
"Yeah. They sell Psych 101 to the community colleges — cheaper than a real teacher! I've never been in that lecture hall, though."
"Maybe you could ask them for help."
"All right," Don said, "decision made. You do whatever needs to be done and call purchasing to change the order — shouldn't be too much trouble, we only placed it yesterday. So long as you stay within budget, of course."
And he and Anna took off for a meeting.
I am REALLY in over my head here. What now?
By the end of the day I'd found Tom, who worked for the university setting up distant learning classrooms, and he'd selected the equipment. Purchasing grumbled but Tom calmed them down and we completely revamped the order.
To get the gear here by Friday, we had to pay for "expedited shipping," which wasn't in the budget. I authorized it anyway. When I called Don, he was relieved that it was on its way and didn't quibble about the shipping.
To thank Tom for his generosity in helping me, I invited him for an after-work drink at Literratica. The place was dead but it brightened considerably when Lisa appeared.
"Can I take your— Carl! Hi."
"Hi Lisa. Tom, this is Lisa. Lisa, Tom. Tom's the genius who's helping us set up the interview video system." Tom beamed.
"It's just wraps tonight, I'm afraid. We're short-staffed till the summer hordes arrive, so we're cleaning the kitchen with a toothbrush, particularly the grill." Tom ordered a Coors, I had a Sprite.
"Distant learning is finally entering the mainstream," said Tom. "It's been around since television came in, but the costs have come down to the point where now every medium-sized business has a room equipped for video-conferencing. Universities love it because they can spread the cost of a professor over a greater number of students.
"What got you get into this?" he asked.
"I don't know anything about video, I'm a photographer," I said, laying my camera on the table. "All I did was mention remote cameras and my knowledge was exhausted. Professor Draper just decided on the spot that I should design and purchase the setup, and then he took off! Man, am I grateful to you for getting me through this."
"Glad to help. It's simple enough. What you're doing is a small TV show. Have you ever done theater tech?"
"Nope. But," I smiled, "I have a friend who does that at the Carpenter."
"Yeah. You know her?"
He grinned. "Yeah, used to date her. She's so intense, it was tough to get her attention. Is she around this summer? She could get you up and running in no time."
"Vermont, some theater program."
"Give her a call, she really knows how this stuff works in real time."
"Tom's right. It's simple enough. Look, here's the software," and she rattled off the names of the vendors and programs. I made her repeat them slowly so I could write them down.
It was Wednesday night, late. I'd called Tuesday morning but she hadn't returned the call till now, and I'd been afraid she wouldn't.
"Is this stuff intuitive? I can probably figure out the camera with a little trial-and-error, but it'll take a while to learn the control suite, won't it?"
"Tom's really good at this stuff, he'll help you. And I can sit in by phone, even hook up to your computer and walk you through it. They give you a decent laptop for this?"
We talked tech for a while, concluding that I should do a dummy interview as soon as everything was set up.
"When do the real interviews start?"
"Draper wants to start as soon as possible. He's got an ad set for the first summer issue of the student newspaper, day after tomorrow. The overall research director has hooked us into his website and database where they have online application and receipt forms, a program to send emails from the database, and the statistical sampling program for selecting subjects. Draper's given me two file drawers for the paperwork.
"I think by the end of the first week of classes we could be in full swing."
All through exams I'd masturbated every night, to relieve the tension. But since fucking Lisa on Sunday and starting the job on Monday, I'd zoned out about sex. Now it was Thursday morning and I had the day free, and maybe tomorrow too, depending on when the equipment arrived.
On the way to the ag school with Julia, I'd noticed a small park on the outskirts of town. There was a stand of trees, a couple of picnic benches, and a view of the vast farm field. Perfect.
I called Ruth to borrow her car. "Sure, but I need it back by four."
"I know you work nights, Lisa, but could you squeeze out a couple of hours for a picnic in the countryside this afternoon? I'm waiting for the gear to arrive and I'm bored."
"Am I that transparent? Yes, horney."
"I am too. It's not usually a good idea for me to break my routine. I'm working on a great short story. But," she mused, "it's kinda ragged. I need a break. Yeah, let's go." We agreed I'd pick her up at noon.
My plaid blanket, a half dozen chilled bottles of sparking water, assorted cold cuts, a whole loaf of bread and a bread knife, what else? Oh yeah, glasses, plates, napkins, lettuce, mayonnaise.
Now I know why Ruth stopped doing the picnics.
The food store had a special on picnic baskets, packed with everything for a quality four-person picnic, even a small spray bottle of bug repellant. I added a cooler, bought some ice, and stowed everything.
"Got the jigglies?" Lisa teased when I arrived at her room ten minutes early. Like me, she was wearing cargo shorts and sandals. Her four-button blouse had ruffles on the front and her ringlets tumbled over her shoulders, framing her face.
"You are so crude," I teased back. "Everything fell into place, so I figured, carpe diem." She had a bag of grapes, which we tossed into the cooler.
The rutted pulloff was dusty, the grass hadn't been cut in weeks, there were bugs were all over the place, and the sun was broiling. "It's perfect," said the sweating Lisa as we spread the blanket.
I sprayed the bug repellant. Lisa had thought to bring sun screen, lip gloss, and two pairs of cheap sun glasses. As we began spreading out the food, she admitted that the sun was just too much and we moved into the shade.
"NOW it's perfect," I said. The trees provided not only shade but obscured any view of us from the road. We shucked our sandals.
I asked about the story she was working on. "Please don't be offended, but I'm here because I want to get away from it. Tell me what you're doing."
I explained how Tom had helped devise the video system and that Karen had offered advice about software. "It's not our parents' camcorder any more. Digital, wireless, built-in autofocus, much better sound, you run everything off a laptop." We ate, occasionally locking eyes and smiling.
Sandwiches done, I opened the cooler and we each plucked a few grapes from the stalk. Then I offered her a grape on the very tips of my fingers. She took it with her lips, sucked it into her mouth, then slowly pushed it back out.
"Wanta grape?" she whispered.
My lips took the grape and we kissed, softly. We broke and she laid her head in my lap and I fed her another grape. She crushed it with her teeth, drank down the juice, and sighed.
Opening the buttons of her blouse revealed her two tiny, unfettered breasts. I took the coldest grape I could find, trailed it across both nipples, then down the space between her breasts.
"Cold, tickles," she giggled softly.
I fed her the grape and she crushed it, letting the juice run out the side of her mouth and drip onto my lap.
Trailing the next grape across her breasts, but from the opposite direction, I offered it to her. As her lips reached for it, I retracted it, crushed it with my teeth and offered my mouth. We kissed softly, exchanging the juice.
The bending was too awkward to continue, but Lisa took advantage of it and rolled my shirt off. I lay down beside her, the grapes and her breasts within reach, and we finished removing her blouse.
I sucked the nipple of her left breast, wandering my fingers around to 4 o'clock and 7 o'clock. I nipped the absolute tip of the nipple and she shivered and murmured "oh that's nice" as she raked her fingers through my hair.
She squealed when I took the coldest grape I could find and dropped it into her navel. When I sucked it out and then blew a huge foghorn, she squealed again and practically levitated.
Her breathing was ragged as I opened her shorts. As with her blouse, I found nothing underneath.
First with one finger, then two, I worked her pussy, sliding to her clitoral hood and teasing out the ready stalk. She closed her eyes and murmured "Oh Carl, so good, so very good."
She moaned as I shifted to kneel between her legs, rubbing her clit with a grape. "Yes, yes yes yes, oh god yessss, god yes."
I hadn't been tonguing her clit for thirty seconds when she exploded under me. "Oh yes, so fucking good! Make me cum! I'm cumming!" I had pushed my face down at the first sign of the dreaded thigh clamp, so while I was breathing very heavily, I had oxygen.
Just as she was starting to settle, a tiny dip with my little finger into her asshole set her off, this time softly. "Oh god yesssss, I'm cumming, sooooo goooood," as she licked her lips and swung her head, then slowly floated back to the blanket.
I caressed her sweaty chest and slid my jockey-less shorts off with my free hand. Her nipples were so super-sensitive that even in her euphoric state, my touch made her pull away.
"I'm still seeing stars," she finally gasped, recovering. I tried again for a nipple but she pushed my finger away.
"No Carl, please no, they're sooo sensitive, I love it when you touch them, but please not now, please." The rejection, even for the right reason, deflated my cock.
So I moved to kiss her forehead, pushing the wet curls aside with my lips as she idly stroked my cock. "Make my day, lover, get hard, get hard," and she tweaked the cockhead.
"Oh god, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you."
"No pain, no gain," I clichéd as the pain disappeared. "But now that you're back among the conscious, can I play with you some more?"
"Are you a machine? Let me do something for you. Please, I want to."
"You just did it. You let me give you two orgasms, and I think there are more where those came from. I never have gotten very friendly with this" — I touched her right nipple — "one."
"I'm naked, so are you, and all you can think of is nipple? You ever hear of fucking?"
"Vague rumors, but —" by then she had my cock in her mouth and was plunging on it.
Surprisingly enough, I got hard.
"Cowgirl, please cowgirl, let me have your breasts, please Lisa."
"Okay, okay," and she pushed me onto my back, swung into the saddle, and slid down my cock.
"None of this pencil-thin stuff, okay?" I reminded her of our last encounter.
"Nah, it'd ruin the fun. But fountains of cum, yeah, that'll happen," and she started to fuck my cock.
I wasn't coherent enough to remember which breast was the left one (to leave it alone), so I palmed them both and twisted each nipple. "Oh yeah, fuck yeah, that's good," she said between plunges.
As I was losing control, I grabbed her hips as she was swirling them and held her in place just above my hips and probed into every fold of her pussy with my cock.
"You are going to irrigate every square inch of me," she puffed, "cum for me now, cum, cum, CUM!" and she squeezed. I let go, and then I came.
The first cannonade was on her up-stroke, and she felt it. "Good, good, oh goooood, I gotcha!" She squeezed me again, then leaned forward and supported herself on her hands and knees as she swiveled her hips. Sometimes she squeezed, sometimes she went up and down, but she got four ejaculations before I made her stop.
We clasped, gasping, our racing hearts slamming against the other.
"Hooray, hooray, for the first of May, outdoor fucking begins that day," I puffed.
"Little late, aren't you?"
"Begins that day, not ends that day."
"Oh yeah, right."
"Please tell me we can do this again in about fifteen minutes," I rasped.
"I'm on break Carl, can't stay away all day. And don't you have to get the car back to Ruth?"
I jumped. "Oh yeah, I forgot." I grabbed for my shorts and fished my cell out. "Three-fifteen. Oh Lisa, I'm so sorry, we have to get back real soon."
We lay there, watching the sky go by, for maybe ten minutes. But we did have to go. She pulled a pair of panties from the pocket of her shorts and dropped a paper napkin into the crotch. I swabbed the blanket and folded it. Basket, cooler, and blanket got stowed in the back seat and we scattered gravel as we pulled onto the pavement. I stopped just outside of town to fill the tank.
She blew me a kiss and strode purposefully toward her dorm.
"I filled the tank."
"Oh you didn't need to. I'm just getting food enough for the next two days, then I'm putting it up on blocks for a month."
"Nobody does that any more, do they?"
"No, but that's the way I'm feeling about it. It's a great car, and Stuart always disconnected the battery and drained the gas tank if we weren't going to use it for more than two weeks." I barely heard the catch in her voice.
"But she really needs to move, shouldn't sit for four weeks.
"Would you do me a favor?"
"She's due for her sixty-thousand mile servicing pretty soon. If you'll see to it that it's done on time, you can use it while I'm away."
Visions of Bogart and Bergman flashed through my head. Wheels!
"I'd love to, sure."
I was at her door the next morning, shortly after her email arrived.
"Here's three copies of a permission letter, the registration and two scans of the registration, and my second set of keys. I've asked the police to keep an eye on the house, so here're two copies of a letter in case they're concerned about your being around. This is the key for the kitchen door, if you need to get in for any reason.
"And this," she said, pointing to a sheet of paper, "is the super-secret email and telephone number of the tour company. They can reach the barge if they have to.
"Get in touch if there is something vital that only I have to deal with. Short of the place burning down, no, not even then, because I couldn't do anything about it. If I can't fix it, don't call. Okay?"
"Okay. You're going to enjoy yourself, aren't you?"
"You betcha! I am so excited! We leave tomorrow! I know you'll take care of things." We shook hands and she hugged me.
"Have a great summer, Carl."
The video equipment arrived that afternoon, just before Marilyn, Don's secretary, was leaving for the weekend. She gave me the keys to the lab so I could stow the boxes there. She also gave me a thick manila envelope.
"These are the technical specifications. Margolin, the senior researcher, is really hyper about the camera angle, says his analytic software won't work if you're not pinpoint accurate with the video."
"I do accurate," I boasted. "And consistent. Besides, we're going to do some test interviews to check things next week, once we get it all set up, and we'll send them to him." I took the equipment to the lab and locked it up. I would read the specs after dinner.
She answered on the first ring. "Hi Margery. Free for dinner?"
"My savior! You're whisking me away from drudgery. Where shall we dine?"
"Since I'm getting social these days, let's visit Carrie at SOL."
Like Lit earlier in the week, SOL was barely open. Carrie was glad for the company.
"Kitchen's closed, I'm afraid," she said as we perched ourselves at the bar and announced we were hungry. "We're washing everything in preparation for the health department's swing through town early next week. Wanta Lolita? It'll be the most interesting thing here tonight. No music till next week."
"Would I be in any danger?" Margery asked demurely, head-gesturing to me as she lowered her eyes.
"He can't get you drunk here, that's for sure," she snorted, pointing to the very visible sign behind the bar: "No Alcohol Served In Any Drinks."
After a few minutes, we were the only customers in the place, so Carrie joined us.
"I've never been in here," I confessed. "What's the story?" It was dim, the only light in the early evening being from the filthy skylights at the peak of the two story roof.
"SOL's been here for about ten years. It started about a year after Literratica, up the street. They got their liquor license and, since the State Liquor Authority won't allow two licenses on the same block in college towns, we don't have one. So we've got a different business model.
"We're entertainment central. Lecherous professors, teenyboppers looking for their first 'real' experience, lonely people wanting a place to drink coffee and read, whatever, everybody's welcome.
"Since we don't have liquor, we let everybody in. But you have to be a member. You buy a card and we punch out the cover charge every time you come in. It's as little as two dollars during the day, but at lunch we rebate the cover with the food. It's more at night and when we have a show, and extra for admission to the show itself. That's how we make our nut."
"What's S-O-L stand for? Everybody uses the initials and I always see it in capital letters."
"Yeah, we just say it like it's three letters, S-O-L. It's a play on sun. The logo is a sun symbol. I've seen old menus with four different logos, but all sun symbols. The big one on the front of the building is the rising sun. We're always fending off weirdoes who think we're some sort of astrology store.