Summer Film Study

But look closer, and the tightness emerged. It showed in all the places her outstanding young body looked its best: the shorts seemed painted over the sublime cheeks of her butt, the denim nearly skintight over her vagina. Above winked a strip, just a thin one, of tanned flesh where the shorts were slightly low and the tanktop slightly high, a twinkle of gold at her navel. And further up, just above the innocently wrinkled tanktop, the fabric swelled out grand and glorious over her breasts, the lines of a lacy bra clear and prominent underneath.

She beamed vaguely around the little café, her smile huge, taking no apparent notice of me. She and Gretchen lingered over her order, gossiping, and the entire time I was looking moodily at her legs and remembering how she looked in that two-piece the other day, lounging beside Vickie.

Vickie. Fuck.

It occurred to me later than it should have: Alicia would know about Vickie and I and our backseat adventures. It seemed pretty obvious to me that those three wouldn't keep a secret like that; they'd been practically finishing each other's sentences on the beach that day, even though Vickie had told me they'd only met a week before. I had a sudden dark vision of the three of them sitting around a sticky institutional coffee table, fruity beverages in hand, giggling about the size of my penis and the emerging patch of white hair in the center of my chest.

I took another deep, deep sip and stared out the window, hoping that she either wouldn't notice me (inconceivable) or that she was busy, and would take her drink to go. Which was why my heart sank so fast and far as I heard the shuffle of her thin leather flipflops headed my way.

"Mind if I sit here, Mr Wolfe?" Her voice was lilting, saucy, just as it had been at the beach. I had a flash image of tanned cleavage, then forced a smile as I stirred and turned toward her. "Just for a few minutes, until Gretch gets my coffee done?"

"Hi, Alicia?" I was careful to put it out there as a question, mostly for the benefit of the rest of the customers. Sixteen years I've been teaching in this town; I was known, and I was often unsure of my alums' names. Not much of a reputation, but I didn't need gossip. "Alicia Romano, right?"

She smiled in a patronizing way, showing me she understood my charade, and I felt dirty. "Sure! From three or four years ago." She remained standing, plainly expecting a hug. "It's so nice to see you! Again!"

People were watching.

I dragged myself unwillingly out of my seat. Ordinarily the idea of giving Alicia Romano a hug would have left me panting and erect; now, I felt like I was being used, playing a role, and it felt icky. Plus, I stank. "Good to see you." I clasped her in perhaps the hastiest embrace I could manage, a hug from the shoulders up, my arm lank and gross across her shoulderblades. Her hair smelled strongly of roses, her body warm and firm against me, and I pulled away as quickly as I could.

"Huh! So quick with the hug," she said with an air of quiet mockery as she pulled out the old caned seat. Her voice was fairly quiet, thank God. "You gave Vickie a better one the other night, I heard." She settled gracefully into the creaky chair, her whole body slim and lithe and perfect. "East Adams, wasn't it?"

Holy fuck. What was she doing? I stared hard into her hazel eyes, wide with joy as she turned that gorgeous face toward me. I glanced around, worried, and when I answered my voice was low and sullen. "I'm stinky and tired," I declared.

"Pfft." The raspberry came out in a spray of saliva; even that seemed elegant. God, this girl! "There's no excuse to give a half-assed hug."

"What is this, Alicia?" I was hissing right away, praying I wouldn't draw attention as I glared over at her. "What are you doing?"

She sat back and crossed her arms, a frame for her breasts. Her whole being screamed amusement. "What?" She blinked innocently. "I heard all about it from Vickie." She looked up with a gracious smile as Gretchen came over with something whipped and chocolatey. "Thanks so much, honey!" she gushed, her smile warm and genuine, and Gretchen's canny little eyes flickered between us as she delivered the drink. "You're a doll."

"Thanks!" Gretchen blew Alicia an air kiss, and her short legs were still carrying her away as I leaned in and whispered in outrage.

"We can't talk about this here!"

"About what?" She sat back again, peeling the paper from her straw with satisfied deliberation. Her hazel eyes showed intense glee. "About you and Vick? She had a great time."

"You know we can't." I flicked my head urgently toward the rest of the room. "I'm married," I choked out at last, the last refuge of a man who's in a very awkward public spot.

"Hmm." She rammed the straw coolly through the lid and into the cup. "You're saying this isn't something you'd like to discuss here?" She pulled out her phone in its stylish case, checking the screen. "I'm late, if you'd like to walk with me to the Harborway."

And then she got up, winked down at me, and moved toward the door without looking back. Stupid me. Of course I followed her.

* * *

"So, I really didn't mean to embarrass you back there." Alicia sat demurely, both legs glued together, with one forgotten hand up to keep the breeze from making an unsalvageable mess of her wavy hair. It was bullshit, and she knew it. Harborway Park lay right alongside the ocean, where the wind had nothing in its way.

"You don't care about embarrassing me," I replied calmly. She glanced at me, shifty-eyed, and then smiled a twisty little smirk.

"No, actually, you're right. I kind of like embarrassing men." She gnawed at her lip. "Like, what would you do if I grabbed your dick right now? In public?"

"That's not a good idea, Alicia," but I was smiling despite myself, and she was laughing, and once again I was amazed at the girl's self-possession, her maturity. She carried herself more like a grown-up than half the adults I knew. I rubbed at my ridiculous little beard. It felt like the two of us were a couple. I sighed and unwisely abandoned myself to the situation. "Can't say I'd mind, though," I ventured, and her smirk became a grin.

"Ah yes," she gloated. "Keep it down, Chris." She yawned, collecting her whipping hair. "You're not really my type. But Vickie told me you like having it grabbed, is all."

I leaned against the back of the hard bench and glanced automatically left and right. Nobody. "And I'm so happy she blabbed about it."

"Oh, shut up." She swatted at my chest with her free hand and winked. "Bitches talk. About men, about sex, about dicks, about all kinds of stuff." She leaned in, her shirt moving comfortably with her beautiful breasts, and I tried hard not to look. "I meant what I said at the B&T, Chris. She enjoyed it, but there's always room for improvement."

I felt myself blushing. "I've got three kids, Alicia," I pointed out. "Clearly I can handle myself around a woman."

"Ooh! Well, now," she chuckled. "Maybe, if it's sex you're talking about. But there's sex, and then there's sex. Mind-blowing, fantastic, think-about-it-on-your-deathbed sex." She squinted over her sunglasses at me, her hazel eyes nearly transparently golden. "You're a nice guy, Mr Wolfe. You deserve that kind of sex."

I couldn't resist. "And you can give it to me?" I found myself reaching out and lightly stroking her arm, and she let me with a smile. She brushed her hair behind her ear.

"My my," she purred, her voice deeper, "you're not listening to me, Chris. I told you you'd need to keep it down." Oh, but I wasn't; there was no chance of that, talking about sex with such a fantastic-looking woman. "I also told you you're not my type, honey." She gave me more of her arm anyway, watching my fingers. She thought for a moment, her lips puckered, and then she smiled a deep, secret smile. "Do you want to know if the rumors are true? The ones about me?"

I stopped stroking her, my fingers frozen. This was about Rick Davis. "What rumors would those be?" I asked her evenly.

"The rumors about me fucking Mr Davis," she replied calmly. "I know you've heard them. They were all over the school when it happened."

"Happened." I'd known, I think, but the confirmation was still a little weird.

"Mm-hmm." She was back toying with her hair again. "It was all my fault, of course; he was a nice guy, but not the kind of guy who'd hook up with a student. So I hooked up with him, instead." Her smile softened, went dreamy, like she was remembering a childhood trip to Disneyland. "I kind of forced myself on him, but he was willing. Oh, was he ever willing."

"Was he." My mouth had gone dry. I didn't need to hear about a colleague's sex life, but I badly wanted to hear about Alicia's. "He's married now, you know." I had no idea why I said it, but she wasn't jealous.

"Yes, I've seen her," Alicia shrugged absently. "Molly. A fat woman with a shitty fashion sense. I don't mind." She looked straight at me then. "We all make choices in life, Mr Wolfe. Mr Davis made his choice." She paused, then arched an eyebrow. "But it's okay. Before he committed himself to sweet little Molly, I gave him some of the best pussy he could have ever wanted. So he's really got nothing to complain about."

She looked at me again, but I was silent now. "We spent, I don't know, four months together? Five? Into that summer, anyway."

I raised my eyebrows, impressed. Somehow I'd always imagined it as a greasy, shameful little encounter, never repeated. "Five months?" I whistled.

Her smile was back, crafty now. "And now," she announced, "you're sitting there wondering how many times I fucked him in five whole months. Hmm?" She toyed with me gently, prodding my thigh. "I didn't keep count," she admitted, "but I'll bet he did. We were doing it four, five times a week?" She sighed. "Can I be honest, Mr Wolfe? It may be weird for you to hear, since you work with him." She waited for my nod; I could deny her nothing, and she clearly wanted to tell me. "Most of my ideas about good sex come from Rick Davis."

I was supposed to say something, I realized. "Really," was all I could come up with, said flatly. She examined me closely.

"When Vickie was talking about you," she went on, "I kept thinking of what Mr Davis and I would have done. He and I were amazing together. I mean, part of it was his cock," she shrugged, "which is fucking comically large, but that's only part of it. We just... fit. You know?" No. I didn't. But I could hardly admit that sex with my wife had always been a chore. "Fit perfectly. All along our bodies." She thought about it, staring out to sea. "You know those pornos, Mr Wolfe? Those really, really expensive ones, where both of them are really hot and into it and you just wish you were there?"

I nodded, my mouth ever dryer. I'd obviously never be able to look Rick Davis in the eye, ever again.

"It was like that every time, he and I." She smiled faintly with the memory. "We were up for anything. He doesn't seem very imaginative, but trust me. He can bring it." She hadn't moved her hand from my thigh, and I didn't even realize it until she squeezed it. "That's what I thought about when Vickie was telling us about you. With what I learned from doing Mr Davis, I could turn you into a fucking freak, Chris."

I stared at her. She seemed absolutely serious, like a woman selling life insurance. There was an awkward pause as a kid on a longboard came by, glaring nastily at us as he texted. I cleared a throat gone suddenly thick and hoarse. "Why would you do that, Alicia?"

She turned and watched the slowly rolling kid, her body twisting like a trebuchet under tension, and then swiveled her eyes back toward me hard and fast. "Why not? You're no worse than Mr Davis. If he deserves great sex, you do too." She finally took her hand off my knee, patting it briskly. "I'll need a night next week. The summer's almost over, and none of us will have time for any of this once classes start. Figure out when your wife can let you go, and then let me know." She reached nimbly into my pocket and fished out my phone, tapping at it busily. "There. I'm the contact called 'Cunt.'" She smiled, her perfect teeth bright in the sunlight. "Text me before you come over, and I'll tell you how to get into the suite."

"The suite?" I was confused. She rolled her eyes.

"Where I live. Shit, Chris. What, did you think we'd do this at your house?" She winked. "You're going to come over and party with us, Chris, and when I say party, I actually mean 'fuck.' Because you know how I said you weren't my type?" I nodded stupidly, unsure whether I should be eager or scared. She swooped in, and suddenly I could smell her thick hair all around me as the summer breeze flogged at it. Her mouth was right up next to my ear, her whisper fierce. "I've got a boyfriend right now, anyway. But Kaylen's going to fuck you. And Vickie? Well, she felt guilty about leaving you high and dry, as it were." She backed off, smiling brightly. "Sound like a plan?"

* * *

There was no doubt in my mind, however paranoid it had become, that my wife suspected I was up to something. "What?" I protested, spreading my hands. "Petey and Brett want to do one last end-of-summer fling. I'm just along as the designated driver." I waited with my thumb poised over my phone. "What's better for you? Thursday or Saturday?"

Friday was out; she was going out with a friend of hers, which I was counting on to give me my opportunity to go "party with" Alicia and her friends. I was practically shaking, giddy with pent-up excitement, and it amazed me; just a week ago, I'd never have had any thought that I'd ever really go so far as to cheat on my wife. Now I was all set up to go cavort for an extended evening of carnal collision with two or three willing young women, one of which had had my penis in her mouth just a few days ago. I shrugged. "Come on, hon; this'll be Brett's last big thing. He's not even going to be working with us next year."

She sighed, heavy with doubt, but I knew I'd done it. She wouldn't stop me, and at the moment, that was all I cared about. She cocked an eyebrow at me. "School starts Monday?" I nodded. "Fine. Thursday."

My thumb was already in motion, but it wasn't messing with my calendar app. It was texting Alicia.

* * *

I've never been more self-conscious than the seven or eight minutes I spent walking from the college visitor lot to the door of McWhitttier Hall.

Seaborne High School is a normal, everyday comprehensive secondary school that sends a large number of its graduates to the nearest public college: this college, just one town over. So I kept expecting, quite reasonably, to see scads of my own former students wandering around campus, grinning as they saw me, giving me their usual bubbly little hugs, and asking pointed questions, questions like, "What are you doing here on a Thursday night, Mr Wolfe?"

But thank God my wife had picked Thursday, after all. The coming weekend would be when all the students were moving in, making this the last gasp for summer break. Only a relative handful of students were here, either the kids doing summer sessions like Vickie and Kaylen, or the bored ones who weren't switching rooms. Like Alicia.

But still, I nearly did a combat roll into the nearest bush every time I caught sight of any other person, strolling among the last of the light across the Quad. I didn't really know the school very well, so I'd Googled a map; alas, it was one of those cartoonish maps that parents like, and few of the buildings seemed to be matching up.

And so I wandered, hoping I'd eventually get a glimpse of Alicia; she'd said they'd be down to let me into the building, and I certainly wasn't going to leave without finding the right building, so I was very relieved when, standing there like a doofus studying my map, I finally heard a low whimsical voice call me. "Hi, Chris!"

I whirled, fencer-quick, to see Vickie leaning casually against one of those emergency lightposts, the kind campuses have with the direct line to the police built into them. She wore loose running shorts over her long, smooth legs, with a nice Trashcan Sinatras t-shirt up top. Bare feet. She sucked merrily on a blunt. "What's with the hat?"

I reached up self-consciously; the hat was, of course, a disguise. So were the sunglasses, the carefully nondescript hoodie and cargo shorts, so different from my school clothes; I was hoping any of my alumni would just assume I was some parent, lost while bringing the kids to orientation. I felt my eyes go wide, seeing her; something lurched in my belly, then down in my dick. "Thank God," I muttered. "This place is totally confusing."

"Absolutely," she agreed; of course. She'd only been here a month or so herself. She took a drag, then held the blunt out toward me. "Want any?"

I decided, on impulse, to flirt. "That's not what I want from you." I closed the distance and stood there in front of her, taking her in. My throat felt tight and my whole body was trembling a little with excitement and anticipation; she smiled up at me.

"Well, that's certainly polite. Come here." I stepped into her embrace, felt her arms wrap around me and her legs up against mine; she gave me a kiss on the cheek. "We've got unfinished business, you and I." She broke off and stepped back, carefully Stubbing out the blunt and putting the unused part into a ziploc bag. She winked. "Want me to just blow you right out here, or should I take you in to give you the tour?"

"Oh, I think we should head inside," I shrugged, feeling my mouth ache in a foolish grin.

"Sure thing." She walked casually alongside me, sliding her ID card through a slot to get into the building. "I felt really bad," she admitted, "leaving you with blue balls last week."

"Oh, it wasn't your fault." She steered me toward the elevator. "I blame Officer Friendly."

She smirked. "Still," she went on, nodding at the RA behind the desk, "I could have helped you out anyway. Afterward." The elevator slid open. "I'll do my best to make up for it." She sauntered into the elevator carriage, her hips swaying, and didn't even look as she reached behind her and smacked one of the buttons. I gulped, staring (I'm not ashamed to say it) directly at her butt, and followed her in.

No sooner had the doors shuffled closed behind me than I was behind her, running my hands up her back and across her shoulders, feeling no bra. "Mmm," she preened, arching back against me. "Picking up where we left off, hmm?"

I was on fire, of course, my dick already swelling against her narrow ass as she moved it gently against me, lolling her head back now to rest it against my shoulder. She smiled dreamily. "The girls kick me out to smoke," she murmured, her hands reaching behind her to rest against my legs. "Smoking always makes me horny."

"Sounds fine to me." She stank of sickly-sweet weed, but I didn't care. By now we were on the fourth floor, my hands already moving down to cup her firm little tits; I could look down the front of her body and see her nipples sticking clearly out against the thin shirt. My penis was now fully hard and caged tight between the cheeks of her ass. "Are, uh, are Alicia and Kaylen home?"

"Alicia yes, Kaylen no." She giggled as my fingers crept up under the shirt to tickle her sides. "Soccer practice started last week; she should be home soon. Stop that!" I was manipulating her nipples, skin on skin, my teeth nipping at her neck; I was absolutely out of control. She batted my hands away. "We still have to walk down the hall, and that's going to be hard enough with what you're packing. I don't need rumors spreading about me." The elevator dinged, and she tore herself away. "Not that anyone's getting here until Saturday, really," she breezed, easing out past me and into the hall.