Creative Writing

Danica was entering her Junior year at college and was hard pressed to explain to anybody who asked what she was going to do with her English degree when completed. Teaching was certainly an option and, as time went on, was looking more and more like the ultimate outcome. She was not thrilled at the thought.

She enjoyed writing in her diary and was looking for ways to expand on that when she happened to see that her favorite high school English teacher was instructing a class on creative writing at the local community center during the summer. John Carter was one of the few teachers who ever seemed to care about Danica as a person and not as just another student. If he were not twice her age, Danica believed they would have been good friends.

Danica registered for the class online and anxiously awaited the first evening session. She thought back to when Mr. Carter spent an entire week in the English class discussing song lyrics as poetry. That was her first introduction to Bob Dylan and Jim Morrison, but also made her look at Mr. Carter from a totally different perspective. He was actually pretty cool; not something she often said about her high school teachers.

Thus, the opportunity to reunite with him and, at the same time, pursue another angle of writing intrigued her.

Danica arrived fifteen minutes early for the first class and spent the entire time catching up with her former—now new again—instructor. When the class started, John spent two hours discussing the syllabus and, finally, getting into the nitty-gritty of what went into the planning stages of one's writing. He made everyone feel comfortable by pronouncing that his lectures would apply to whatever length of work the students had in mind—from short stories to novels. The principles, he explained, were much the same.

At the end of the class, as the other students filed out, Danica lagged behind and approached him.

"I didn't realize when I signed up that I'd be in a class with a bunch of people that could be my grandparents," Danica said.

John smiled. "That is a typical class, a lot of retired people. They find out they have all this time on their hands and try to find something to do. Maybe a friend tells them, 'Hey, you should write a book.' So, they sign up."

"Do they write books?" Danica asked.

"One out of ten might actually finish a short one," John replied. "They recognize that the book sucks and never write another one. All the other people find it's too much work and never get to the end."

"So, why do you keep teaching these classes, Mr. Carter?"

"Danica, please call me John," he said. "I'm not technically your teacher anymore and we're both adults. As to why I teach this class...for that one student, I guess. The one who takes it seriously and will put the work into it. Someone willing to learn and apply the techniques that I think work."

"Have you written any books?"

"I'm working on my third one," John said. "I wrote a lot of short stories to begin, trying to get a handle on character development and plots and all the rest."

"I'd love to read them," Danica said with a grin.

"I'm not getting rich off them," John sighed. "I self-publish on Amazon. Maybe I just haven't hit on the right genre, yet. Which one did you have in mind? Or haven't you even thought about it?"

"I have. I was thinking about romance to begin with."

John nodded. "Good choice. But, you have lots of competition there. The stories better be good."

He added, "Plus, you'll need to consider whether to include sex or not."

Danica twisted her mouth into a frown and said, "Well, that's problematic. Not much experience there and the guys I have been with were jerks. That's why I was kind of leaning towards writing about relationships between younger women and older men."

"That works," John told her. "But, that means you will need to tell the reader how each of them feels about it. The guilt. Uncertainty. Anyway, when you begin, you should consider submitting your stories to literature websites so you get feedback from readers."

"You'll be my editor, won't you?" Danica asked.

"Of course, I will. But a writer needs thick skin if you want an editor," John told her. "We should meet separately from this class so I can expand on what I talked about tonight and get you started on the right foot."

"I'm free anytime. I am not working or anything. Tell me when and where to meet," Danica said.

After a short silence, he said, "My wife takes the kids to Florida every year once school is out to see her sister. They left yesterday. Do you feel comfortable coming to my house tomorrow afternoon around one?"

"That would be great," Danica answered, pulling out her phone. "Give me your address."

"Also," John added after providing the address and his cell phone number, "bring a brief outline of what your first story will look like. We will talk about it tomorrow."

"You always did give the easiest homework," Danica said with a smile.

***

Guilt and uncertainty, indeed, John thought to himself as he lay in bed that night, images of Danica refusing to vacate his head. In fifteen years of teaching, he had seen dozens and dozens of cute girls come and go in his classes. He soon forgot most of them when the next batch came along. But, now that Danica reappeared, three years more mature and free from the confines of high school, John could not stop thinking about his attraction to her. Her shoulder length hair, always looking a little windblown; her petite body; that face.

John thought about Danica's choice of topics. Relationships between younger women and older men. How could a twenty-year-old write about THAT? How could she possibly know what went through the mind of a man in that situation? Regardless, he was glad she was back and that she wanted to pursue her dream to write.

Danica, too, looked forward to her first 'private session' with John. Her opinion of him only grew more positive following their post-class conversation. She hoped he did not think she was trying to take advantage of him, being a former student. However, even her professors at college were not as willing to help as John was. She would eagerly take advantage of this opportunity to learn more.

The neighborhood Danica grew up in was built in the 1950's. The houses were small, the yards neat. But, it was clear the middle-class people who lived there did not have money. They kept cars until the engines needed replaced and home repairs were a luxury. The few kids that got to go to college, like Danica, did so on scholarships and massive student loans.

So, when Danica pulled into John's condo community, it was like entering another world. She drove past the clubhouse with its large pool and colorful lounge furniture, dreaming of a day that she might actually be able to afford living on such a street.

'I'll have to sell a hell of a lot of books,' she thought to herself.

A moment later, John grinned when he heard Danica at his front door. He welcomed her in and they exchanged small talk. Danica had not spent much time choosing her outfit for the visit, but John silently approved of her t-shirt and shorts while they walked into his family room.

Danica politely declined John's offer of refreshments. He then asked, "How's the outline coming along?"

She opened the manila folder on her lap and pulled out a sheet of paper.

"It's not much," she said timidly.

"Don't worry," John said, taking the sheet. "It's my job to show you how to make it better."

He quickly read through the dozen lines of text.

"That's a good start. But, where are the details?"

"Details?"

John smiled. "Yeah, the details that will make your writing so much easier. Put a little work into the outline now and save hours of re-writing later."

"Tell me how," Danica said.

"I always recommend a basic Roman numeral outline system," he told her. "Make the description of the first segment of the story Roman numeral one. Do it in just a few words. Then a capital 'A' listing the first major event in the story. Under that, small letter I's with even more detail about what happens. Whatever will help you write it out later."

"That makes sense," Danica said.

"For instance," John continued. "Your first line here...'Girl sits by pool in backyard'...is Roman numeral one. Under that, capital A might be 'Describe girl.' Capital B might be 'Explain why home.' Then bring this next-door neighbor guy into the picture, and so forth, so that you have carefully thought out everything that's going to happen long before you write it."

Danica nodded. "I get it. That's easy because it is already in my head. The entire story, I mean."

"I can see that from the outline. It will be interesting to see how you approach this topic," John said. "There are so many directions you can take. It has all been written before, but it will be a good theme for your first shot at serious writing."

They chatted for a few more minutes before John said he was going to kitchen to get a drink.

"Want anything?" he said to Danica over his shoulder.

"No thanks," she replied.

Reaching into the refrigerator, John heard Danica say, "Determining who is the aggressor in my story is going to be the hardest part."

"Aggressor?" John asked, opening a can of Coke.

"Yeah. Which of my characters is brave enough to make the first move?"

John moved over to a cupboard and reached high onto a shelf to pull down a bag of chips. When he turned around, Danica was standing inches in front of him.

"Is the girl too shy to initiate anything?" she said calmly. "If she does, she'll be seen as a whore. If the guy comes on too strong, he's boorish."

John hesitated before answering, "If it's a love story, maybe it just happens naturally."

They stared at each other for what seemed an eternity. Danica inched forward until their bodies touched. John clung helplessly to the Coke and chips, frozen in place.

"If it's a love story," Danica said, "there should be a slow, dramatic buildup to the climax. Like foreplay. Don't you agree?"

"Your readers will feel rushed otherwise."

Danica took the Coke and chips and placed them on the counter, trying her best to keep their bodies close. Then she looked into John's eyes again and said, "I'll have to use my imagination. It's all kind of new to me."

"I'm sure you'll figure it out."

Danica ran her hand up the outside of John's arm. John reached up and put a hand on the side of her head, feeling the soft hair. His fingers slid down to her face, across her cheek and onto her chin. He touched her lips with a single finger.

"Kiss me, John."

When he did not move, she worried. Then he said, "Be sure to tell the readers that voices inside his head screamed, 'Don't do it.'"

Danica was smiling when John leaned forward and put his lips on hers. She pulled him against her tightly. Their lips parted and he felt her tongue. Immediately, the kiss intensified. John put his hand on the back of her head. Danica felt her breasts pressing against his chest, her heart pounding wildly.

Seconds later, when John heard Danica moan and he felt his cock harden, he pulled away. John did not match the grin that was on Danica's face, but only because of the unexpected nature of what just happened.

"This foreplay part is pretty cool," Danica said.

"It's only foreplay if there is sex later," John replied. "I don't believe this story is X-rated."

He picked up the Coke and chips and headed back to the family room with Danica in tow close behind.

"You shouldn't have done that," he said, collapsing onto the couch.

"You could have said 'no.'"

"I should have," John said without even looking at her. "Danica, I said I would help you with your story. That doesn't mean I'll play the part of a character in it."

"Well, I just wanted to know what an older guy would do if a girl asked him to kiss her," she said innocently, taking a handful of chips.

"Yeah, right."

"So, I'll work on my outline," Danica said between mouthfuls, "and write the first segment. Will you still be my editor."

"Of course, I will. I keep my promises," he told her. "Do you promise not to ask me to kiss you again?"

"Promise."

"Will you have the first part done in two days?" he asked.

"Yep."

"Come over at noon. And bring your bathing suit if you want," John said. "The pool is open."

###

Danica spent nearly every free moment she had on the outline and story. Her desire to please John drove her on, but she also found she enjoyed the writing itself more and more, particularly after implementing John's recommendations on detailing the outline. The words flowed as her heroine, Heather, plotted how to seduce her neighbor, Peter. Danica fretted over single words and entire paragraphs, rewriting entire sections when something did not suit her.

Eventually, the day to visit John arrived and she stood in front of her dresser, rummaging through a drawer containing her bikinis.

'What would Heather wear?' she asked herself with a wry smile.

She pulled out a light blue one that she felt was appropriately revealing for this special occasion. Danica inspected herself in the mirror after changing into the bikini and before pulling on a much-too-large football jersey. Then, with the folder containing her story on the passenger seat, she made the short drive to John's.

It was the hottest day of the early summer. The sun shone brightly and the humidity was climbing. John normally left the door to the patio open and the ceiling fans working, but he closed the condo up and turned on the air with a guest coming. Danica sat in her usual chair across from John. Refreshments were already out. John did not intend to make that same mistake twice.

"Any progress?" he asked Danica.

"Lots. I hope you like it. But I still want constructive criticism," she replied.

"You brought a swimming suit?"

Danica lifted up her jersey, revealing the bottom of her bikini. John smiled his approval.

"Do you want to go to the pool first or look at the story first?" he asked.

"The pool. It looked kind of crowded, though."

"Yeah, we'll stay long enough for you to swim a bit if you want," John said.

"That would be great. You don't swim?"

John shook his head. "Rarely. But, I wanted you to have the opportunity."

"Thanks," she said. "Bring the story with you. You can read while I swim."

"Perfect."

It only took John a minute to change into his bathing suit and grab a towel for Danica. Then they began the short walk to the pool and clubhouse. John made Danica giggle with his stories about many of the neighbors. There were a handful of younger couples with kids, a few of which were certain to be at the pool. But, mostly, the residents were older, John explained. That meant lots of griping about things like the lawncare company, trees and shrubs needing trimmed, and kids playing in the street.

The pool area was, as expected, quite busy. A family was using the grill to cook lunch. Kids splashed loudly in the water and the retired couples sat in lounge chairs reading their books. Luckily, two chairs remained unoccupied until John and Danica claimed them.

"Go swim. I'll read," John told her.

He opened Danica's folder while she pulled off her jersey. John tried his damnedest not to stare at her slim body and the skimpy bikini that did little to cover it. He looked down at the first sheet of paper, but as Danica stepped toward the pool, John had to look at her again. Her body had the youthfulness of a teenager, but her stride was that of a mature woman. Her breasts were average, at best, and her ass tight. But, the entire package on her small frame was near perfection.

John read for a few seconds, only to watch once more as Danica gracefully walked into the short end of the pool. She took a few steps and dove, beginning a flawless swimming stroke toward the far end. John sighed and began to read in earnest.

Fifteen minutes passed in what seemed like no time to John, as he engrossed himself in Danica's writing. He wished he had remembered to bring a pen, but made mental notes instead. He re-read a couple passages. Soon, Danica was standing next to him, toweling off.

"Like it?" John asked, shading his eyes from the bright sun while looking up at her.

"Loved it. I'd never leave that pool if I lived here."

"Let me know when you're ready to go back," John told her.

"OK. I think I'll sit for a few minutes and work on my awful tan," she said. "Did you read what I have so far."

"Yep. We can talk about it when we get back."

Thirty minutes later, they were sitting on the couch. John found a pen and notepad for Danica, who sat beside him in her bikini ready to jot down whatever words of wisdom John would convey.

"So, this is a really good start," John told her, holding her story in his hands. "For the first draft, it has a lot of qualities that I would expect from far more advanced writers in my class."

"Thanks," Danica said. "But I need to know where to improve, too."

"There's only a few small things I found that I wanted to mention," John said. "But, before I forget, I wanted to tell you that I loved the part where Peter was spying on Heather from his upstairs window when she was sunbathing topless. A little bit of voyeurism never hurt a good story, even if you were not going to include much sex. The way you described it was perfect. And telling the reader that Heather knew it was happening opens the door for all kinds of things later on."

"That's near the end of what I've written so far because I wasn't certain where to go next, even with the outline," Danica said. "What made me stop was the fact I wasn't exactly sure what I should say about what Peter did while watching Heather. I mean, like, did he play with himself? Wait until she went inside and then masturbate?"

John laughed. "I guess that answers whether there's going to be much sex in the story, doesn't it?"

"And if he did either of those," Danica continued, "how do I know how to describe that in a realistic way? It's not like I watch men masturbate every day."

"Get online and watch a video."

Danica looked at John quizzically.

"Do you do that? I don't mean watch men beat off, but do you look at porn?" Danica asked.

"I'm not sure that's an appropriate question for your English teacher."

"You're not my English teacher anymore and, besides, you said we were both adults," Danica said defiantly.

She gazed at him waiting for his response. Finally, John said, "It is not a habit, but I've done it. Yes."

"Videos or pictures? What's your favorite category?"

Danica swung her body around so she was facing him and put a hand on John's leg, on top of his swimming suit. She slid her hand until her fingers touched his bare skin.

"Do you like teens with big tits?" she asked. "Or do you prefer women your own age? How about lesbians? I hear men love to watch."

"I don't have a favorite, actually. And usually pictures."

Her hand made it to his knee, then returned to his suit again, slipping onto his thigh.

"I need to know what Peter looks at after watching Heather. Maybe he's thinking about having oral sex with her. Do you get hard watching a young girl giving a blowjob to an older man?"

Danica's fingers moved up until reaching his balls. She lingered there before continuing on to John's cock, which was growing by the second. John remained silent.

"So, you sit at home and look at porn," she said, lightly gliding over his cock. "I bet you also close your eyes and masturbate. Maybe you think about one of the other teachers. Mrs. Jacobs, for instance. I bet you imagine her naked, giving you a blowjob."

"Stop it, Danica."

"Consider it research for my story," she said, wrapping her fingers around his cock through his swimming suit. "I'm going to write a section with Peter thinking about Heather, reaching inside his pants and grabbing his hard cock with images of her tits in his head."