The Home Ec Final

Day 1

Dr. Reid unpacked his suitcase in the master bedroom, yet again. For various reasons, no other professors in the Home Ec department wanted to leave their family behind and go live in a house on campus with an unmarried woman. Since he had no one at home, it most often fell to Dr. Reid to administer the senior exam. For the most part, he didn't mind, but he was starting to feel like he was getting too old for this lifestyle. Always upending his life to move into the demonstration house for a month.

He was nearly old enough to start drawing on the university pension. As long as his health held up, his costs in retirement could be pretty low. That was a big gamble though. He knew he wasn't so fit anymore; every time he visited the doctor he seemed to leave with a new diagnosis, and it made him wary to go back to the doctor if he could avoid it.

The doorbell rang, interrupting his unpacking. Dr. Reid tried to suppress his irritation at leaving it unfinished. He opened the front door and found a young woman on the welcome mat. She was a bit tall and wide, especially in the shoulders. Her face was soft, making her age hard to tell, but he knew she had to be a college senior, so likely 21 or 22. She was a bit plain, with an unflattering haircut.

And she was evidently studying to be a housewife. Good luck with that, he thought. She would need any advantage she could get. Dr. Reid decided to do everything he could to make sure she was prepared for married life. If she was sufficiently skilled at running a household, surely some practical young man would see the virtue in that.

By her side was a plain, practical suitcase much like his. At least she hadn't brought the whole boudoir like some did.

She didn't greet him with a smile. Her expression was intent, but hard to read any emotion from.

"Annabel, yes?" he said. She nodded. "You can call me Dr. Reid. Please come in. I'll show you around."

It was easier to tell her things she might have already heard than to suss out what she already knew, so he kept rambling.

"For the next thirty days, this household will be yours to manage as it were your own. I will be playing the part of the man of the house. I also will be the proctor of your exam, taking note of how you execute your duties, and providing pointers when necessary. Ideally it should not be necessary at all. You will receive a final grade at the end of the program."

"Do you adhere to a religion?" he asked, changing topic. The question seemed to take her aback. "I'm prepared to practice any of the major faiths with you, if needed."

"No, sir," she said. Her voice was soft and resonant.

He realized she hadn't said anything until asked. Good, he thought. It wasn't like he ever enjoyed a woman's company, but perhaps he could tolerate her.

He led her down the hallway, letting her pull her suitcase along with her. "This is the kitchen. It is stocked with essentials to start, but you will be in charge of keeping it supplied with anything you need. You will be responsible for dinner, breakfast, and a box lunch to take with me."

They continued around the corner. "Here's the bathroom. The entire house is yours to clean and maintain, but the bathroom is one area I ask you to pay close attention to, for sanitary purposes."

Finally, they reached the bedroom. "Here we have our sleeping quarters. You may make use of the dresser along the far wall there, and the right half of the closet. Unless there are any questions, I'll let you get settled in."

She dragged her suitcase around to her side of the bed, without a word. He looked on for a second, until he was satisfied there was no confusion about how they would share the space.

He knew from experience that it was best to make himself scarce at this point. Besides, he wanted to see if she would put the rest of his things away for him. He took a book to read, and went out on a walk.

He returned home and found her making dinner. It seemed like she was a bit behind schedule, but it was her first day here after all. He sat at the table until she served him a plate with baked chicken breast and a frisée salad. He judged it not bad for a first attempt.

As they ate, Dr. Reid looked her up and down again. Annabel was at least not so utterly lost and helpless like some of the young women he'd had in his tutelage. It seemed like she'd had at least a bit of useful life experience, and knew something about how to carry herself. She was a bit larger than his tastes typically ran, but he at least didn't find her repellant. He tried to imagine her underneath him, as he pressed into her. He frankly wasn't sure how she would act in that situation, but the idea at least didn't disgust him.

He told her, "I want to let you know ahead of time, that part of this examination will involve fulfilling your duties in the marital bed twice per week."

He didn't always do this. Sometimes he could tell that a young woman would be too religious, or unwilling to go so far in a pretend marriage. Sometimes there were girls he could not bring himself to have sex with at all. He wasn't entirely sure about this one, but he figured he had a duty to expose her to the realities of married life if he could. He would at least offer, and if she refused, that would be that.

"Does it count towards my grade?" she asked innocently.

"Yes, it is one of the categories in which you'll be evaluated," he said.

Some would say no, and that would be the end of it, even if he would have to dock them points in his rubric for it. A few over the years had complained, but the university administration was always on his side.

"Oh." She took another bite of salad, mulling it over. "Which days?"

"I'm sorry, what do you mean?"

"You said twice per week. Which days of the week?" she asked.

The question surprised him. Usually when a woman went along with this, either she wouldn't want to know when it would be happening, or she'd be game whenever. Annabel was some other kind of creature, one that Dr. Reid felt something in common with.

"Tuesday and Saturday," he said.

Day 2

So far, Annabel was keeping up rather well. She had breakfast ready for him in the morning, with hot coffee, and a lunch packed for him already. He hadn't noticed when she'd done that, maybe while he was asleep. For dinner, she served a spaghetti carbonara. So far these were simple meals, but quite functional, and not disappointing.

He felt surprisingly nervous, having told her that Tuesday would be a day they'd have sex. Now Tuesday came so soon, and he still didn't quite know what to expect with her. She was a bit distant and inscrutable. Some young women would speak their mind too much for his tastes; Annabel was just the opposite.

One convenience of having it prearranged was that they both knew what was coming. Unlike the previous night, this time she stripped down to completely nude before climbing into their shared bed. He caught a glimpse of her pasty white skin as she did so. There was more heft around her belly and her hips than he liked, but he wouldn't back out now.

Besides, he wasn't such a fine specimen himself, at least not anymore. It was something of a mercy that she didn't watch as he revealed his older frame, with his sagging skin and a touch of paunch at the waist. In fact, she kept her gaze firmly elsewhere, perhaps in the realm of imagination, as he started to fondle her breasts.

But for the rise and fall of her chest and the catch of her breath, he wasn't sure he was having an effect, until he slid his hand lower, down between her legs. He found her warmed and wet and parted for him. Needing no further preamble, he climbed on top of her.

"Are you a virgin?" he asked before it was too late.

"Does it affect my grade?" she asked. The constant refrain. She seemed completely serious.

"No."

"I've had...some experience," she said.

He didn't say so, but he was glad not to have to hold back with her. As he first pressed himself against her heat within, she interrupted his thoughts.

"Should we be using a condom?"

He sighed and backed off a bit. "Whatever precaution you choose, it's your duty to arrange it."

By now he was already hard, already in position. He didn't want to back down. "I'm going to proceed, if there's no objection."

She nodded her head slightly, but he suspected she was only going through with it now because she knew he'd have to dock points if she didn't.

Still, it was hard to deny that there was something eager in her, judging by how she flowered for him. He pressed into her slowly at first. She laid still on her back, but inside of her, her muscles were strong and taut, squeezing and pulling on him. It was a surprising contrast with her distant gaze. He began to thrust into her and then withdraw, hoping she'd mirror his rhythm and find her own ardor. The wealth of sensations inside her spurred him on, faster and faster.

His climax came soon, sooner than he was expecting, from the overwhelming sensations that belied her outward apparent indifference. He grunted as his seed flowed into her, pressing tightly against her as his organ emptied itself. He felt it fill her and flood around him. When he withdrew, it all stayed inside her.

Exhausted, he rolled away from her, back to his own side of the bed, and started drifting to sleep. She tried to conceal the sigh of her pent-up breath, but he heard it nonetheless, before she turned off her bedside lamp.

Day 3

When he roused, she had prepared him a breakfast, much like the day before. That was fine, he didn't expect variation in his breakfast.

He detected no change in her attitude towards him. She was neither warm and glowing nor icy or resentful.

"How did I do?" she asked, after he took a sip of coffee.

"It's all lovely, thank you," he said.

"I mean...in bed."

"You did fine..." he began. He tried not to judge the women who slept with him. Their willingness was enough, as far as his rubric went. But she looked at him expectantly. "It would be more pleasing to most partners if you could be more...participatory."

"Thank you." She nodded. She didn't seem hurt by the remark, which was a relief. "I understand."

Given the way she'd behaved in bed, he wondered what kind of experiences she could've had. He wanted to know, and at the same time, he suspected the knowledge would bring him no joy.

Day 6

For the rest of the week, they'd been able to easily settle into a routine. He got quite used to her presence in the house. She was quiet and unobtrusive, but steady and reliable. She seemed quite mature and capable in executing her duties.

On the nights in between, she expressed no interest in him, simply sleeping beside him and apart, like they had that first night. It was almost like it had never happened. He could imagine worse outcomes than that.

On Saturday, he had more time to look closely at the state of the house, and to observe her care of it. He gave her a pointer about how to clean the windows without leaving smudges or lint. The house has bills to pay throughout the month, and he found that she'd been keeping up with those already.

He also spent the day in anticipation of the night to come. He thought back on that first time together. The surprising intensity of it, even though she'd been all but passive during it. He was curious how it would be, to couple with her again that night. He couldn't quite make up his mind about whether he was actually looking forward to it or not. After all, there was something unnerving and awkward about her. There was something going on behind her eyes that he had no way to read. An element of mystery, even if he suspected her secrets couldn't be all that sophisticated.

For a little while, he went out for a walk to clear his head, and to give her a bit of space to herself. But he couldn't go far. At the top of the nearest hill, his knee was complaining, and he found himself out of breath.

He poured her a glass of wine with dinner on Saturday night. They were both adults after all, even if she was a third his age. She accepted it dutifully, not with enthusiasm, but drank it nonetheless.

When they retreated to the bedroom at the customary time, she swore under her breath. "I forgot to buy condoms again at the drugstore."

He was a bit surprised. In so many other ways, she'd been conscientious and competent. But he understood that there could be an exception to the rule.

As he undressed across the room, he advised her, "You can pick up a morning-after pill tomorrow. In fact, there should also be a refill of my blood pressure medication to pick up while you're there."

He thought perhaps she'd have an easier time remembering to go if she had another reason to.

She lay back on the bed, and he climbed atop her again. His cock found her hot and seeping at once. She raised her thighs to meet him, to pull him close. Her arms circled around his shoulders, spurring him on. As he sank into her, the breath hissed sharply out of her. Involuntarily he grunted as he found himself buried in her to the hilt, her flesh tight around him. They really did join nicely to each other.

He started thrusting into her, and she pushed her hips up to meet his downward strokes, urging him deeper. Each time, she stifled a cry behind her teeth, and yet he could spot the artifice in her act. He had suggested she be more into it, and so she was playing the role he asked her to. He found it intoxicating even so, especially with the constant stimulation of her sex upon his.

He moved faster and harder, and her ardor rose to match his. One arm gripped his back tightly, drawing him close. The other hand pressed against the side of his neck. It was unusual, just short of painful, and it made him nervous somehow. He gently moved her hand away from his throat.

Finally he sped towards his finish line. The pitch of her moans rose with his, and for a moment it was all too easy to forget that it was an act. When he let loose inside her again, he almost expected her to orgasm together with him, but as soon as she felt that he was finished, she abruptly stopped moving, stopped moaning, her arms dropping to her sides. He couldn't help but feel a bit of disappointment cut through the euphoria of his post-orgasmic glow.

Day 7

On Sunday morning, he went to church, leaving Annabel to take care of her situation in the meantime. When he returned, she had tea sandwiches prepared.

He didn't feel as if he should have to ask if she got the morning after pill. He thought all of this tawdry business ought to be beneath his notice. But he found that he had to know. "Did you sort out your situation?"

"The pharmacy is closed on Sundays. I should be able to go tomorrow between classes," she said.

"Good," he said. "Make sure that you do. A crucial part of managing a household's finances is managing how many mouths there are to feed."

Annabel nodded in understanding. She seemed awfully calm, considering the circumstances. But then again, there was much that she seemed to keep to herself.

Day 8

Even having discussed it, the worry stayed with him. He found himself stewing on it all day. He had never let himself be caught up in this kind of situation before. Perhaps he was becoming careless and soft in his later years. Perhaps it was about time he retire.

As soon as he got home, she had just taken his coat to hang it up, when he blurted out, "Tell me you took that pill."

He knew he might be a bit too close to shouting, but he couldn't help it. If she hadn't, he was ready to give her as stern treatment as it would take to sort this out.

"Yes," she said. "Of course."

It was a weight off his shoulders, but his hands still trembled afterwards. His pulse was still racing an hour later. He noticed that the mirror in the bathroom hadn't been wiped clean lately, but he decided not to bring it up just now. If she sacrificed a chore in order to take care of their situation, he couldn't punish her for it.

Day 9

His lunch was a disappointingly limp ham sandwich. It made him flush with irritation. And yet most of what he felt throughout the day was an unexpected longing to have her again. It was a Tuesday, and his entire body seemed to know. He felt feverish by the time he got home. He was half-inclined not to wait until they climbed into bed, but to strip her there in the kitchen, to fuck her hard wherever she was. But he restrained the impulse. Besides, he knew his knees wouldn't be forgiving on the kitchen floor.

He didn't ask it as a question, because he felt he shouldn't have to know. "I hope you've sorted out a precaution."

"My period is about to start in a few days," she explained.

He let the words bounce off him, determined not to think about her menstrual cycle. She had an answer; that was good enough.

"On your hands and knees, please," he said.

When she was positioned at the edge of the bed, he lined himself up and slid into her from behind. He looked down upon the smooth expanse of her back, and the tussle of her hair. From this angle, she wasn't quite so plain, though she was still thick. Her back showed creases where her bra had strained under the weight of her breasts.

He gripped those thick hips and thrust into her roughly, over and over, though her body made his abrupt motions feel smooth. He could feel her reaction to his thrusts. A little jolt, a ripple, a spasm inside her, too quick and involuntary to be faked. Not a full orgasm, but perhaps something like it in miniature.

This time, he was able to hold out longer still. In recent years, he'd started having more trouble maintaining an erection, but with Annabel, so far, that had never been a concern. Even so, he was starting to feel winded by the end.

It was a relief in more ways than one, when he finally ejaculated into her again. Not that it wasn't well-earned. He felt over-exerted, and wondered if he'd feel the strain tomorrow. Finally he could lie down and go quickly to sleep.

Day 13

Before bed, Annabel took a hot shower. Dr. Reid had seen her naked several times by now, so it held little mystery for him. But he couldn't remember, had she done that before?

He remembered what she said, ruminating on it more than he liked to. By now hopefully she'd gotten her period. But he wouldn't ask. No, it would send the wrong message. The man in her life shouldn't have to concern himself with such things.

She climbed into the bed, finding him waiting there, ready for her. This time she straddled his lap. He disliked when young women were too particular about things, but he played along. She sank down on him, and he slipped up into her easily, probing somewhere deep inside her.

As she started to rock her hips, he had to admit that it was easier this way. Any worries he'd had about having her weight resting upon him melted away. This way he didn't have to exert himself. Let the younger woman do the hard work. And it seemed to work out well for her too. This time, he could swear her passion was genuine.

He laid back and enjoyed the ride. It was a relief not to have the worry of pregnancy hanging over them. This time he could focus on the shared pleasure between them. He felt his muscles unknotting themselves as she pressed down on him with her bulky frame.

She pressed herself down on him harder, driving him deeper into her, mashing their crotches together ferociously. As he approached his climax, she brought a hand to his neck again. It wasn't a tender gesture, it was something else he couldn't place, and he didn't much like the pressure close to his throat, at a time when he was already struggling to breath.

He lost his focus and it was suddenly all too much for him. He fountained up into her, his muscles straining to pull her down onto him, to push himself up into her. He felt a reaction to it reverberate through her.