Education of a Jezebel Pt. 01: Kindergarten

Foreword

If this work were published as a physical book, it would have a blurb on the jacket that might read: "A young and naive divorcee, Kelley, is forced to confront the world of dating and the myriad conventions and traditions of sex. Education of a Jezebel follows her progress through the first perils of relations until she finds the joy of her urges."

This is an entire erotic novel. If it were printed in paperback form, it would be rather thick, just over 400 pages.

I warn you, this work begins slowly. We need to understand Kelley, to empathize with her situation, to appreciate the path she chooses to follow. I believe if you choose to stick with it, you'll be rewarded.

I do hope you enjoy.

Adam Gunn

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Chapter 1

Ten years, four months and twelve days after she'd taken up her duties as chatelaine of Luciano's manor, Kelley Nestico carried her last box of belongings from the house she'd decorated and ornamented. Her husband, soon to be ex, said, "If there's anything I can do..."

Kelley just shot him a glare, remembering the times he'd come home stinking of other women's perfume, and the lapse three months ago when he'd attacked her during an argument, she'd heard the whizzing of a chef's knife past her head. After the police took him to the county jail, she'd stayed with her friend Ashley for a few days, got a lawyer.

The negotiations weren't overly hostile, Luciano understood his errors, she moved to the guest room, her attorney was trying to mediate a sizable augmentation of the prenuptial agreement. He would pay, she understood, for confidentiality and an agreement not to prosecute him.

Since then she'd had seven or eight dinners with her husband, when he wasn't drunk he was sophisticated and glib, using his native Italian accent to charm her; some of those nights she'd allowed herself to be seduced, the sex had been as average as it ever was between them.

Her former college roommate and best friend Ashley told her if she took him back the philandering and abuse would just start again. She'd found the lower floor of an older house in an established neighborhood, had the movers take the furniture she'd bothered to talk Luciano out of to her new pad, along with fifteen boxes or so of clothing and personal belongings. The box she now held was the last, filled with pictures.

She sat that night in her new apartment with Samantha, her friend and boss by her side, drinking a bottle of cheap champagne, discussing her future.

"You're going to have to learn to date," Sam slurred.

"I don't want to."

"But if you don't, you know you're never gonna get laid again!"

"I don't care about sex," Kelley whined, knowing that what she was saying was a deceit. It'd been a couple weeks since she'd let Luciano have her for the last time, even though she used her vibrator a few times a week she knew she wanted the firmness of a real man inside her.

"So, really, you've only been with the one guy? And here you are, thirty-one years old! We gotta get you screwed!"

"Yeah, but how?"

"Leave that up to your big sister..."

~~~~~~~~~~

The next night Kelley showered in preparation for an outing with Sam. She stopped in her bedroom, inspected her naked body in the antique mirror. Her medium height was complimented by a slim frame, kept in shape by forays to a downtown athletic club and Wednesday yoga classes, jogs around her neighborhood. Her svelte waist tapered nicely to rounded hips, she would have liked to carry a rear end that was more filled out, but. Her oval face was complimented by a eastern European nose and pouty lips, her eyebrows were thinned by her beautician every month. Long dark mahogany locks hung well below her shoulder.

Her real dilemma was her breasts, she'd never cared much for them. They hung nicely, even without a bra, sometimes she fit into a C cup, but normally a size B 1/2 fit her well. The issue was that they pointed sharply away from each other, angular, the malformation made her feel awkward, almost ashamed; she'd had a habit of quickly covering up when Luciano was near, no other man had ever seen them.

She selected a black outfit for the evening, but when Samantha picked her up and saw Kelley's dress, somber and suitable for an Italian matriarch in her fifties, they spent a good fifty minutes rummaging through the closet and chest of drawers, Sam worked on her face and hair. At last, Kelley was announced, 'good enough, but we've got to go shopping.'

They headed for a watering hole in Kelley's neighborhood where the guys dressed not too badly. Samantha flirted heavily with pairs of men, Kelley tried to follow her lead, found she hadn't any idea. A couple times a guy would touch her lightly on the shoulder or knee, when Kelley recoiled in surprise they'd move on. It was after midnight, Kelley hadn't seen Sam for at least twenty minutes when her friend approached her. "Listen, would you mind taking an uber home? See that guy? He's so cute! We're going to his place."

The dejection on Kelley's face was clear, but what could she do? "Yeah, okay." A half hour later as she stumbled on the stairs leading to her porch, Kelley groused, "Piss on it!"

Monday morning at work Samantha was in a great mood, Kelley snarked at her. The office was small, just the two women and an admin, in Sam's corner office Kelley bitched. "I can't believe you just up and left me!"

"Honey, we could've waited until the very last guy left at closing time. Nothing was going to happen with you and they all knew it."

"How come you got picked up and I didn't?"

"They knew I was available, and you weren't."

"How did they know that?" Kelley asked, a little astounded.

"Well, were you? Really?" Kelley realized Samantha probably had a point, didn't know what to do with it. Sam continued, "So, we've gotta get you out there. Don't worry, it'll take a little while, but I've got a big wing you can hide under until you're ready."

Kelley was at a loss, needed succor. She spent a weekend in her dull home hamlet of Glacier, sitting on the front porch of her father's house, the one she'd spent her youth in, looking at the blooming azaleas, letting her father soothe her.

She phoned Ashley, invited her and her husband to a dinner at her new apartment, Ashley was bugging her about seeing the new place. On a Friday evening they arrived just before seven, a bottle of wine in Don's hand. "Nice place," Ashley complimented as Kelley greeted them both with continental kisses on the cheek.

The apartment was small but well appointed. It occupied the bottom floor of an 1891 house, most of the woodwork was of mahogany, the landlord had laid new carpet throughout except for the kitchen where the tile had been replaced. Kelley took them for the tour.

A hallway led directly from the front door, past the entrance to the living room on the right, along the bathroom to the left and straight to the kitchen. Entering the living room, the visitors found a roomy chamber, upscale antique furniture she'd rescued from the house up in the hills, Luciano could find his own damn replacements.

She sat them on the sofa in the front room, tuned her smart speaker to jazz. Ashley alerted her, "So, the news about your divorce has made the rounds. Remember Mark Jenkins? He called me and asked for your phone number."

"Did you give it to him?"

"Of course not. If you want me to, I will though."

Don smiled at her. She'd always thought Don was good looking, Kelley was actually with Ashley the night they'd met at a party for a museum exhibition opening. He was a couple years older than the girls, thirty-three, medium height but a strong chin, deep brown eyes.

They ate at the kitchen table, there was no dining room in the apartment, Kelley didn't think she'd miss it. She was only planning on being here a year or three, if she had a social obligation to reciprocate she could always book a private room in a restaurant.

"So, now, Ashley was telling me a story," Don related. "One about you walking in on her with this Mark fellow."

"Oh, yes." Kelley looked at Ashley, she didn't give her the stop sign, Kelley told the tale. "It was one afternoon, what, our sophomore year?, and I walked into the dorm room. Ashley was on her knees by my bed, and Mark was spanking her with my crucifix! I told him to get out, and told her never use my stuff again."

Don said, "So your nicknames really were the Saint and the Slut?"

"Yep."

"And we both earned those nicknames," Ashley added. "Kelley was what, a student priest?"

"Student deacon," Kelley corrected.

"And you know how wild I was before I met you," Ashley said to her husband. It was a truism, the guys had always gone nuts over Ashley's pretty face with the green eyes and the roman nose. The fact that she often wore tops in college that showed her abounding cleavage or would refuse to wear a bra under a t-shirt buoyed her reputation. Kelley on the other hand never kissed on the first or second date, only went to second base once before she met her eventual husband in the summer before the senior year.

Kelley continued, "I was so glad when Ashley and I got an apartment our junior year, we both had bedrooms, that meant I wouldn't be walking in on her anymore."

Perhaps it was Kelley's imagination, but she thought she observed Don glancing at her bare arms from time to time. It was too bad he was married to her best friend, Don might not be such a bad choice to regain her womanhood with.

The dinner was wonderful, her years as consort to the Italian signore had trained Kelley well in the domestic arts, the wine balanced well with the richness of the seasonings.

The night was cool, Kelley led her guests into the living room, poured port to match the mocha cheesecake. "Very nice," Ashley complimented. "I think this new apartment suits you."

"I think so," Kelley agreed. "Did I tell you Luciano stopped by, told me I'd messed up the decorations in the bathroom and kitchen?"

"Really! How did you respond?"

"Told him to go to hell, and he stormed out. That was the last I've seen of him, and until we have to go to court, I hope I'm done with him."

Don remarked, "Okay, would you mind explaining something to me. I met you what, when you'd been married three years?"

"More or less," Kelley allowed.

"Even then, I didn't understand why you married him. I mean, you two didn't fit together. He was too old for you, twenty years at least..."

"Twenty two..."

"And you didn't seem to have anything in common."

Kelley sighed. "Well, it's easy to call it a mistake. Now. We met the summer before my senior year, he was so sophisticated. He told me about his estate near Milan and the patents he owned. He's quite the scientist, you know, that's why USPG brought him over. He's brilliant. And he swept me off my feet. You told me, Ashley, I was getting in too deep..."

"I did..."

"I should have listened. He tried to make a move on me on the third date, and I told him I'd be a virgin on my wedding night. That didn't deter him. A month later he still hadn't worn me down, so he started painting verbal pictures for me. Whatever house I wanted in Corsac Hills, I could decorate it however I wanted. I knew he had plenty of money, he said we'd travel to Italy and New York and California. I just fell for it.

"Then we got married, and everything was fine for a few years. He wasn't the most attentive husband a girl ever had, but we were happy enough. I figured we'd have a baby, then I found out he'd had a vasectomy years before I met him. So no children for me."

"Did that bother you?" Don asked.

"I just came to accept it. Now, I guess I could have babies if I wanted them, if I could find a man that loves me, I've got plenty of time. But I'm in no hurry, not right now.

"But anyway, someone told me they'd seen Luiciano go into a hotel elevator with a woman, I didn't believe it. But I started looking for signs, and there they were. I confronted him about it, and he told me that Italian men always had mistresses, so what? He started drinking heavily, and whenever he did, he'd get mean."

"I saw that a few times," Don said, "so why did you stay with him?"

"Oh, every time we had a big argument he'd send me flowers the next day, said he'd change. The first time he was good, I think, for almost eight months. Or at least I didn't find out. But it went around and around and around."

"So why didn't you divorce him years ago?"

"This is going to sound really bad, but we signed a prenup. Until we were married a decade I wouldn't get much, then it got to serious money. As you know, our ten year anniversary was in December. I'll be a very well off divorcée as soon as the lawyers get done arguing!"

Chapter 2

During the week after what Samantha called, 'the night of nothing to wear,' Sam and Kelley took an afternoon off, the older woman had three appointments made. The first was a prominent hair stylist, Samantha and he talked amongst themselves, the man flipped through Kelley's espresso hair flowing well below her shoulders. Luciano had selected the style, the color, saying only a puttana had short hair; Kelley had never minded because she could wear it in a bun, and after all, if that's what a husband desires...

The queen approached her and said, "Well, honey, here's what we're going to do," and he opened a portfolio to show her. "And we're thinking perhaps light ash brown for the tone." Kelley was unsure, she'd not changed her look in a decade, but with Sam's urging she allowed the stylist to go to work. When she saw the clippings fall to the floor she was unsettled, but two and a half hours later Kelley looked in the mirror and smiled at her reflection. The bright brown of her hair, just two steps darker than blond, animated her face, instead of hanging limply the peppy shape framed her face.

The next stop was a noted color magician. Kelley's cheeks were stripped and the artist used baby pink foundation, bronze and dark eye liner. "Gold would also go very well." The lipstick was of a coral hue, the woman also recommended fiery reds and peach pink. A color chart for clothing and accessories was printed, it was suggested that Kelley's accoutrements should be cobalt or icy blues, mint and grass greens, purples, pinks and berry. "By all means, stay away from anything brown or white." Since these were what her ex-husband preferred, Kelley knew most of her wardrobe would be heading for the Goodwill box. "You can pull off little black dresses, but only if your jewelry is bright."

The final stop was one of the better boutiques in town, after forty minutes Kelley walked out in a dress of blue that flaunted her natural curves, matching two inch heels, a jacket of a softer blue. They walked to a downtown cocktail lounge, Axis, and along the route Kelley realized the men on the street weren't only looking at Samantha. At the bar, men were almost falling over themselves to introduce themselves to the pair. They would chat for a few minutes then Sam would politely send them packing. Between admirers Sam would quietly critique her flirting performance, telling her to stop folding her arms, how to cross her legs at a man. It was a crash course in all the kittenish things Kelley had never learned in high school and college. At happy hours and evenings out for a couple of weeks Sam would continue coaching her, Kelley had a problem feeling truly comfortable.

And then one Friday night when Samantha was dancing with a guy, everything came together. Andrew was really cute, over six feet tall, crashing black eyes, a light beard of stubble, well trimmed, hair that looked like he'd just stepped out of the shower. He was as shy as Kelley was, it was she that first said, "So, do you come here often?"

They talked and danced for over an hour, Kelley used every trick Sam had taught her, some easily, others she forced. But Andrew was very interested, and the first time he put his hand on her knee, she felt a flash.

Samantha checked in from time to time, saw Kelley was doing fine. In the girl's room, Samantha asked, "Is it going to happen?"

"Maybe. I think so."

"Great, so here's what we'll do..."

Kelley went back to the bar, Andrew gave her the seat, stood behind her with his hand on the tip of the high stool, it would often stroke her back as well. They continued to talk, the chatting came easily. A few minutes later, Samantha stopped by. "Hey, I'm ready to go. What about you?"

Kelley came up with the prearranged response, "Really? I'd like to stay for awhile. How am I gonna get home?"

On cue, Andrew spoke up. "I'll give you a lift if you want."

"Oh, that'd be so nice," Kelley responded and Samantha took off, knowing her nestling was preparing to fly.

Andrew ordered another round, it was forty minutes later that Kelley looked at him and then threw her eyes to the floor. "So, should we leave?"

"Sure!" Andrew was certain the game was on, they walked to his car in a nearby lot.

Once on the freeway, they chatted, Kelley described her girlhood home in Glacier. Andrew's hand slipped onto her knee, Kelley covered it with her hand. Her mouth was dry, her heart was pounding, she was sure Andrew could hear it over the hum of the tires.

On the curb before her apartment, Kelley suggested, "Would you like to come in for a little while?" and she led him up the stairs, unlocked the door. "Coffee?" she asked.

"Okay."

He followed her into the kitchen, watched her as she took out the cup and put it in the Keurig. Then he approached her, put his hand on her shoulder, she turned to him, they looked at each other, bent. Their noses bumped, but the lips finally met, Andrew pushed a little more than Kelley wanted, it was a bit rough.

After a couple of moments, as they relaxed, it got better. Kelley put one hand on his cheek, the other behind his neck, Andrew had his at her back, not moving. On a bit of a break, Andrew said, "You know, I don't really need the coffee."

"Neither do I." She led him by the hand into the hall, turning the kitchen light off. In the living room they tumbled onto the couch. Believing he had it made, Andrew quickly began kissing her, letting his hands roam. At first, Kelley let it go on, fathoming that, after all, that's why she brought him home. She complied as he pawed at her tits covered by the blouse, let his hand rise up her capris until they were between her legs, she felt pressure on her groin. There was no resistance from Kelley - she was allowing him to advance, but she wasn't exactly an active participant. Oh, if he approached her mouth for a kiss, she'd kiss back, and when he put her hand on his chest she rubbed it. For her, there was simply no incitement.

As he pulled her top off, she wondered about her lack of motivation. It wasn't that she wasn't interested in getting laid, she thought she was, but something was telling her not this way, not now. She let her bra be taken off, he bent and kissed at the nibs, too quickly, too harshly. When her back began to ache from the slumped posture on the couch, that became the straw. "Andrew, can we stop for a minute?"

He was hot for her, he was anticipating getting his dick wicked, but he wasn't a rapist. "Sure. Something wrong?" He sat up, she covered her chest with her blouse.

"It's not you," she said, "I like you. But I'm going through a divorce, and I haven't really done anything yet. Don't get me wrong, I want to, but there's something holding me back. I hope you're not upset."

"Of course not," he lied. Yes, his brain was yelling 'cockteaser' but this wasn't the first time he'd been led down this primrose path. "Do you want me to leave?"

"Not yet, not if you don't want to." He heard this as hope, maybe after a bit she'd regain her heat. "How about that coffee?"

"Sure."

She rose from the sofa, told him to just sit as she got it, he watched her naked back recede as she headed for the kitchen. As she brewed the cups he inspected the contents of the living room. A high school and college yearbook. A few romance novels. A miniature of the Eiffel tower, quite pricey - was it real gold? A family picture of her when she was a teenager, a father, older brother and sister, he wondered where the mom was. The television was large and seemed brand new.