Aristippus - Robin's Story

Robin's Story - Appendix G

Just hasn't laid on the right Casting Couch Yet.

I was born in the base hospital at E.F. Warren Air Force Base in Cheyenne, Wyoming. My dad was in the Air Force, and we lived in base housing. And though we moved to California when I was seven years old, I have vivid memories of living on the base and starting my first two years of school there. The summers were hot, and the winters were bitter cold. But it was a wonderful tight-knit community and a great place for a kid to spend their formative years.

My dad was a Technical Sargent and a Maintenance Chief for the Minuteman rockets assigned to the 90^th Missile Wing. The Minuteman are the intercontinental rockets that are housed in underground silos scattered across the Great Plains of Wyoming, North Dakota, and Nebraska. And as that was all my dad worked on, though he may have had to travel on a regular basis, we lived at E.F. Warren. So, unlike most Military Brats, our family never moved.

Southern Wyoming was all I knew for the first seven years of my life, and I loved it. But that all changed the summer between first and second grade. My dad was on a training mission in North Dakota when he was killed in a training accident. We were never told exactly what happened, or maybe I should say, I wasn't told. All I really knew was that dad was not coming home.

Needless to say, my mom was devastated. At least in the eyes of a kid, my mom and dad loved each other very much, and we had a very happy home. However, the Air Force was very supportive of us, and my mom must have received financial compensation, for we moved back to Southern California, where she was originally from. And we moved into a nice house in a good neighborhood in Glendale. Near my grandparents and where my mom had grown up. My dad's ashes were interned at the Los Angeles National Cemetery with full military honors. And my mom was given a folded American Flag that still rests proudly on our fireplace mantle, even to this day.

I didn't go to the same elementary school as my mom, but I did go to the same high school, Glendale High. It was a great school, with a great tradition. And there were even a few of the older teachers that remembered my mom. I never was sure if that was a good thing or not. But it certainly was interesting. I always wondered what stories they could have told if I could have only persuaded them to tell me.

And Glendale High had a fantastic performing arts department. I had always been a drama queen, even back in Wyoming, where I was always putting on little plays with neighborhood friends. My mom signed me up for Theater Summer Camps in the summers between school years. And during the school year, I always managed to get one of the lead parts in school plays. So, when I moved up to Glendale High, I took Musical Theater every one of my four years.

As you can imagine, in a community so connected to Hollywood, the other kids in Theater were all very talented. And though I always faced grueling competition for the best parts, I usually did manage to get lead roles and musical solos. I had a good singing voice, and my mom did pay for a voice coach during my last three years of high school.

In my senior year, the Musical Theater Department of Glendale High put on Chicago. Oh my God, that is absolutely one of my favorite Broadway Musicals. And I was determined to get a lead role. I wanted the part of Roxie. That was the starring role, and as this was my senior year, it was now or never. The auditions were the week before the Christmas break. And I practiced with my voice coach five days a week, every week, between Thanksgiving and my audition. I wanted the role of Roxie so bad; that I could taste it.

I won't tell you who got the part. She really was a good friend, and still is. But I was certainly disappointed. However, I did get the role of Velma. That is for sure the next best part for a female. It was almost like the play had two lead actresses, and though I didn't get the role I wanted, I certainly got one nearly as good. Velma has some incredible scenes, as well as several solos.

After getting the part, I watched the movie version of Chicago three or four times. The part of Velma was played by Catherine Zeta-Jones in the movie, and I did everything I could to become her. I'd always heard of method acting, where you live your character to the point where you become the character. And as a student of the method acting approach, I was determined to become Velma.

I already had dark brunette hair. But I had always worn it rather long. So, to become Velma, I cut my hair short into a Page Boy and dyed my hair Espresso Black. I became Velma and even had my friends call me Velma so that I was her twenty-four hours a day.

Now keep in mind that this was high school and not college or professional Theater, so rehearsals took a little longer. In fact, we worked on the play for three and a half months before the performance. And one thing that surprised me a little was that we weren't doing the abridged high school version. We were putting on the complete professional roadshow edition. And for those of you that haven't seen the show, it is, shall I say, rather adult.

Now, at that point, I had already turned eighteen. And I certainly wasn't a prude. I had seen numerous Broadway plays, my mom had let me watch R-Rated movies for years, and this was Southern California, but I was still a virgin. I wasn't saving myself or anything like that. It was just that I had never had a real boyfriend. I'd dated guys, of course. But I'd never gotten serious with anyone, and most of my dates were with other couples or group dates with friends. So, doing the deed just hadn't happened yet. And I sort of kept that little fact to myself. I wasn't embarrassed about it or anything; it was just a personal detail that I felt I didn't need to share.

However, just in case you have never seen it, the song lyrics, the dialogue, and oh my God, the choreography of Chicago is so fucking hot, that I got worked up every day at rehearsals. And after our final performance, I decided it was time for me to become a woman. A full-blown adult woman. And from the show's cast, I had several very eligible candidates to choose from.

Kyle was my age, I'd known him for years, and he had a very hot body. He didn't have a lead role in the play; he was in the chorus. But he was my dance partner in several scenes, and he had his hands all over me. Whether it turned him on or not, I didn't know. But it damn sure turned me on, and I wanted to get my hands on him so bad I couldn't stand it.

The Monday after our final performance, our theater class was basically done for the year. At least for the seniors. We had Theater after lunch, and our instructor told us that we could just treat the class as a study hall. We did watch video recordings of the performance, and we critiqued each other - in a friendly way. But by Wednesday, there was really nothing left to do.

"Kyle," I said, spotting him in the hall after fourth period, our last class before lunch. "Hey, do you want to have lunch together?"

Being seniors, we could leave campus for lunch, and just about everybody did. Stopping and turning back to see that it was me, he said, "Sure, where would you like to go?"

"My house," I said with a smile.

Now, I need to stop and back up for a minute. All throughout my elementary and middle school years, my mom never had a boyfriend. Now she was very social. And she never retreated into some creepy shell of gloom, despair, or self-pity after my dad died. But she seemed happy with her friends and took the time to raise me the best she could. However, at some point during my freshman year of high school, she started dating this guy, Dale.

Now I don't know how they met. It was probably at work. My mom was an estimator for a large engineering and construction firm. They built large commercial buildings, like schools, hospitals, courthouses, and things like that. And I assume Dale may have worked there in some capacity, or he may have been a supplier or customer. And their relationship started out very slowly. But they did date on a regular basis, and after about a year or so, Dale and my mom had their first sleepover. At least the first one I was aware of. And I was okay with it. I knew what a sleepover meant, and as I'd known Dale for all most a year, I was neither surprised nor offended.

Now Dale was divorced, not uncommon in California, and he had a daughter, Julie, about two years younger than me. He had the usual visitation rights, and on father-daughter weekends, the four of us would frequently go out together - like to Disneyland, or Magic Mountain, or the beach or something. However, never overnight. That is until the summer between my junior and senior year of high school.

Dale had Julie for the usual two-week summer vacation, and we went to Hawaii. All four of us. I was very excited, as my mom and I had never traveled out of state after my dad died. So, this was a real treat. And Julie got to go with us, so that was great also, as I'd have someone close to my age to hang out with. The question in my mind was - what would the sleeping arrangements be?

This rather important detail was not discussed, at least not with Julie and me. So, were we going to share a room with our respective parents or were Julie and I going to share a room? To our pleasant surprise, when we arrived at the Ko Olina Beach Resort, I admit I was impressed. It was nice, really nice. But it was away from Honolulu; we were pretty much stuck out there as Julie and I didn't have a car. And I couldn't help but wonder how much time we would have to spend with my mom and Dale.

But upon checking in, Julie and I were both relieved to be issued our own room keys. Mom and Dale were sharing a suite, and Julie and I had our own room. And it could not have worked out better. For other than meals together, Julie and I rarely saw our parents. I don't think they hardly ever left their room, and we had the run of a four-star beach resort. It really was paradise.

About a week after getting back from Hawaii, Dale moved in. My mom was happy, Dale was certainly happy, and I too was happy. Dale was a nice guy, and I wanted my mom to be happy and to have a partner. And I never thought of him as my dad, or even my stepdad. He was just my mom's boyfriend, and we all seemed very comfortable with that status.

Now back to Kyle and me. As my mom and Dale were at work, I knew we'd have the house to ourselves. And as Mom and Dale rarely got home before five-thirty, I felt pretty comfortable in having Kyle over for the entire afternoon. I didn't really know how far we would go on our first rendezvous (so to speak), but if we went all the way, I was ready, willing, and horny.

"Your house?" Kyle asked, a little surprised. I'm sure he was thinking Subway or McDonald's.

"Yes, my house," I said with a high degree of confidence. "I'll make you a sandwich."

"Great," he said, realizing that this might just be his lucky day. I didn't have a car, but Kyle did. And as he drove, I gave him directions to my house. He parked at the curb, and once inside, I took his hand and led him to the kitchen.

"Is a meatloaf sandwich okay?" I asked.

"Sure," he said as he leaned back on the counter. He then just silently watched as I pulled leftover meatloaf from the refrigerator. Popped four slices of sourdough into the toaster, and then pulled a few condiments from the refrigerator door. He then watched in awe as I mixed catsup, horseradish, and a little bit of sweet relish together in a small bowl. As soon as the toast popped up, I slathered one side of each with my spicy catsup mixture and cut two relatively thick slabs of cold meatloaf. I then assembled two sandwiches, one for each of us, and placed them on a plate.

Handing one of the plates to Kyle, I asked, "Would you like a Coke or something?"

"Sure," he said with a smile. "Whatever you've got."

I turned and took two tall glasses from the cabinet, and turning back to Kyle, I said, "They're not cold, so I'll put them on ice." After adding ice to the glasses, I popped the top on the first Coke and started to pour.

"You got any Bourbon?" Kyle asked with a sly smile.

I spun around, and with a startled look on my face, said, "Uh, I don't know if we have Bourbon." I paused for a second to think. "My parents have liquor, but I don't think they have any Bourbon." And yes, I referred to them collectively as my parents, even though I didn't really consider Dale to be my dad.

Kyle smiled and said, "Let's see what they've got."

I admit, I was torn. I had every intention of taking Kyle to my bed, but it had never occurred to me that he would want to drink my parents' liquor. Yet, I knew I had to make a decision. "It's right here," I said as I led him to the hutch in the dining room.

Kyle opened the cabinet, and looking inside, said, "Oh, this will do."

He pulled out a bottle of Bacardi and held it up for me to see. "What is it?" I asked.

"Rum," he said with a grin. "Do you have any limes?"

I didn't say anything. But turned back to the refrigerator and pulled two limes from the crisper drawer. Kyle sliced the limes in half and squeezed the juice into glasses of Coke over ice. Then opening the bottle of rum, he poured enough into each glass to fill them to within an inch of the top. "Spoon?" Kyle asked. And as I handed him an iced tea spoon, he swirled the cold brown liquid until it was blended.

"What is it," I asked as he handed me one of the glasses.

"It's a Cuba Libre," he said with a smile. "Rum and Coke, with lime, is a Cuba Libre."

I tasted it, and it was good. I smiled, and Kyle quickly returned my smile with even a bigger one. We took our sandwiches and cold drinks to the family room and sat side by side on the couch. Taking a bite of his sandwich, Kyle said, "Hey, this is good; what is it?"

"It's a meatloaf sandwich, Silly," I teased.

"No," he teased back as he tickled my ribs. "I mean, what's the red sauce?"

I was laughing from his tickling. But trying to answer him back coherently, I said, "Catsup, horseradish, and a little sweet relish. Do you like it?"

His mouth was full of meatloaf sandwich, but as soon as he swallowed, he said, "Yes, I like. And you taught me something new."

I took another long sip of my Cuba Libre, "And you taught me something new also." I leaned toward him until our faces were only a few inches apart. "And I like."

He leaned closer until our lips touched. Lighten bolts reverberated up and down my spine, and my body just simply tingled. He wrapped one arm around me, and as I tried to set my drink down on the coffee table without spilling it, our tongues began that lovers tango that tongues of first-time lovers do.

Kyle managed to set his half-eaten sandwich somewhere on the coffee table, hopefully at least close to his plate. And now, with both hands free, he wrapped both arms around me and with our lips sealed to each other's, he gently pushed me flat onto the couch and laid his body across mine. Though we were both still fully clothed, as our kisses became more passionate, our bodies involuntarily intertwined with each other's. And though I thoroughly enjoyed this new and exciting adult experience, I was sinking between the back of the couch and the seat cushions.

Finally, I had to break our kiss and gently pushed against Kyle's chest. "I'm sinking," I giggled.

Kyle sat up, realizing that I actually was sinking below the cushions, grabbed my hand and yanked me up to a sitting position. "Where are you going?" he laughed.

"I slipped under the cushions," I chuckled as I tried to sit up with Kyle's help. Once in a sitting position, I wiped tears of laughter from my eyes.

"What can we do?" Kyle asked.

"My bed," I nervously said.

Kyle didn't hesitate. Jumping to his feet, he grabbed my hand and pulled me to a standing position. And leaving our lunch on the coffee table, I anxiously led Kyle to my room. Upon entering my bedroom, I closed the door out of habit and standing at the foot of my bed, I turned to face him. Kyle retook me in his arms and sweetly placed his lips back on mine.

We continued kissing for several minutes in a standing position. But soon, I was ready for the next step. And realizing that Kyle was letting me control the action, I gently broke our kiss, and stepping back a step, reached for the bottom hem of my shirt, lifted it over my breasts and then up and over my head. I was still wearing a bra, but if there had ever been any doubts, there certainly weren't any now.

Kyle started unbuttoning his shirt, but I playfully pushed his hands away and took over that assignment. As I was working down the front of his shirt, Kyle reached behind me, and on the first try, unsnapped my bra. I slumped my shoulders, allowing it to fall to the floor. But in doing so, it occurred to me how easily he had made me topless. I have more trouble than that, and I've been doing it for more than six years. Maybe it was beginner's luck, or perhaps he had more experience at undressing a girl than I had assumed.

Once Kyle's shirt was also lying on the floor, we resumed our kissing in a standing position. However, it was less than a minute before Kyle began to take charge - gently pushing me back onto my bed. He followed me down, laying his body over mine again. And we continued necking for several more minutes. However, his lips didn't stay glued to mine for long. He quickly started kissing my forehead, my ears, and soon, my neck. Again, shivers shot across my body, signaling Kyle to continue his slow march down my torso.

After gently kneading, kissing, and sucking on both my breasts, I was as hot as a firecracker, and I needed more. Sliding my hands between us, I tried to unbutton the waistband of my shorts. The button wasn't in the front; it was over to the side and held a flap covering the hip zipper. Quickly realizing what I was doing, Kyle sat up, successfully unbuttoned the obstacle to my undressing, and worked the zipper down. He now slid off the end of the bed. And grabbing my shorts by the hem, he wiggled them off my hips and over my feet.

The only piece of clothing I still had on was my panties, but Kyle was still in his jeans. Standing there, his eyes fixated on my near-naked form, he unbuckled his belt, zipped down his fly, and pushed his jeans to the floor. Spinning around, he quickly sat back down on the edge of my bed, removed his shoes and socks, and pulled his jeans off, one leg at a time. We were now both in nothing but our underwear. And gazing at each other for a moment, soon returned to our passionate necking.

So, now it was both of us exploring each other's bodies, with hands, arms, and legs, as well as lips. It probably wasn't two minutes, before I felt Kyle's fingers slip under the waistband of my panties. Sparks flew again, and my body was just tingling as I slipped my hand into his Jockey's. I had never felt a boy's penis before. Hell, I'd never seen one that wasn't in a high school biology textbook. But the sensation was too much for Kyle, as well as me. And before Kyle lost it in my hand, he sat up again and slid off the bed. This time he looped his fingers under the waistband of my panties, and as I lifted my butt, he yanked them off and tossed them across the room.

Now quickly laying back on the bed, he laid between my legs instead of beside me and dropped his face to my hairy kitty. I was startled, to say the least. I'd heard of oral sex before. I'd even seen it portrayed in R-rated movies. But it never occurred to me that Kyle would be doing it to me! Not on our first date - if that's what this was.