The Incentive List Ch. 02bywabbit_season©
South East England
August 25th 1996
"I'll show you mine if you show me yours."
Mrs Parsons, or Sarah as she now insisted on being called, held up a folded piece of paper and waved it at James. They had met for drinks several times since the infamous sexual escapade at the end of term, always during one of James' visits home from University, and he couldn't remember her ever being as excited as she was tonight. Every time they had met it had been a fantastic night: full of laughs, saucy conversation and an ungodly amount of flirting, but much to James' frustration no evening had ever ended in any kind of physical interaction. She always dressed fairly modestly for their 'dates', but James knew what kind of body was unjustly hidden underneath her layers of clothing and desperately wanted to familiarise himself with it again - but Sarah would never entertain his suggestions of after-drinks intimacy. She had spelled out exactly why during their very first date after the shower incident.
"It will never be as good," she lamented. "We both know that. It was wish fulfilment. I got to seduce a naive and inexperienced student and you got to fuck the teacher you had fantasised about for 5-odd years. We're never going to top that. And I want to remember it for what it was. And I do remember it James; an awful lot."
So did James. He had enjoyed a couple of sexual encounters during his first year at university, but nothing as amazing as that first time, and with no one as stunning as Sarah – certainly no one as well-endowed. He was still a shy young man, not the cocksure kind of bloke that could easily flirt with his fellow students and get glamorous stunners into his bed. He had managed to charm a couple of bookish girls into several bouts of sexual exploration, and he had enjoyed them very much, but the image of Sarah's cum-soaked breasts sitting below the filthy look on her face was a hard one to shift, and every sexual tryst paled in comparison. James had shared these frustrations with Sarah at their meetings, and she had even admitted that her sex life had felt a little tame since their erotic coupling, but she was adamant that casual sex would tarnish the memory of their realised fantasies. James just had to settle for the incredibly intimate chats they had instead. But it was at their most recent get-together that Sarah had hit upon an idea that she thought could recapture the magic of James' incentive list.
"I was thinking about what you did – you know with your list," she said enigmatically.
"What about it?"
"It was nothing to do with the grades, was it?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well I feel a bit stupid for not thinking of it like this before, but you didn't use the incentive to see my tits to get a good grade, did you? You used the excuse of needing a good grade to talk me into showing you my tits. You basically thought up a very clever plan that offered the slim possibility of making a fantasy come true."
"Well I thought if I had just asked for a titty fuck after school one day, you might have refused," James intoned with mock seriousness. Sarah guffawed in response.
"But that's the thing, of course I would have. Refused, I mean. In that scenario I would have thought you were a total creep, I probably would have felt I had to tell someone, I would have been panicking about my career... I mean I wouldn't have just been able to let that stand."
"Fuck. Well I'm glad I didn't do that then." James felt a little sobered by the assertion. Sarah seemed to notice his unease and held out a warm hand for his own to clasp.
"But in your absolute genius," she continued, "You created a scenario that kind of made sense. That felt safe. That was actually kind of sweet and adorable. The whole thing could be denied or refuted or ignored... well right up until the point I tit fucked you in the shower room, anyway."
"What are you getting at?" James wondered out loud.
"You made your fantasy come true. With a lot of thought and a bit of ingenuity, you came up with a plan that actually made it come true. And I'm thinking maybe we could engineer a few more."
James pondered what she was saying for a short moment.
"Well the fact that it was your fantasy too probably helped," he offered.
"Sure, I met you halfway. But you came up with that plan all on your own. If there's two of us - two horny geniuses; one boy, one girl - we could come up with some of our own, couldn't we?"
"Why do we need to come up with clever plans to do stuff with each other?"
"We don't, you idiot." She slapped him upside the head with a beer mat. "Like I said, it would be easy to go back to mine and fuck each other, but that's not the fun part..."
"I think it would be pretty fun."
"It would be pretty fun, but it wouldn't be amazing. You know what made our session in the shower so amazing?"
"Exactly! The anticipation! I was thinking about 'results day' from the moment you gave me that list. I fantasised about holding up my end of the bargain a hundred times over. And the feeling of your plan coming to fruition, of us reaping the rewards of all your twisted little machinations..."
"Alright, steady on. So what specifically are you suggesting?"
"Let's write another list. Of fantasies. Of things we've always wanted to do that maybe we can't do with a girlfriend or a boyfriend. Things like... you know, getting a tit fuck from your teacher. You write one, I'll write one; we'll compare notes, try to work out ways of... you know... making them come true."
As they continued to chat James slowly started to acknowledge the potential rewards of having a filthy partner-in-crime that he could collaborate with to fuel their respective fantasies. They went their separate ways with James' head full of new sexual possibilities
Over the course of the next seven days, James became almost obsessive in concocting the contents of his list. His fantasies before his encounter with Sarah had been almost entirely dominated by situations involving his beloved teacher, but in the following year he had imagined and masturbated to a much greater variety of mental scenarios. He found that his solo activities were far more satisfying and enjoyable when he imagined situations that were grounded and within the realms of possibility. Picturing him seducing Phoebe Cates into an indecent act on a tropical beach was stimulating, sure, but not all that plausible. Catching a busty flat mate undressing in their shared accommodation was much more feasible - and therefore more of a turn on. Sarah's proposed evolution of the incentive list was perfect for him, because it demanded feasible scenarios that could be engineered with a little guile and planning. James' dirty mind went into overdrive as he imagined all the sordid things he could accomplish with the help of a willing and like-minded female accomplice. The ideas came thick and fast. And so did he, on an almost nightly basis.
"I'll show you mine if you show me yours."
Sarah could hardly contain her excitement when they met a week later. James was embarrassed to see that he had several pages of A4 paper covered in ink compared with the one neatly-typed page in Sarah's hand, but was nonetheless eager to swap notes.
Sipping on her large glass of wine, which James had managed to secure at the bar before an erection had taken hold, Sarah carefully studied the list, occasionally smirking, occasionally letting out sounds of approval. Sarah's list made for equally stimulating reading. A dozen different scenarios were simultaneously bouncing around in James' head and three times as many possible ways to help bring them to fruition for his filthy companion. James wasn't stupid; he knew that the more instrumental he was in making these fantasies a reality for Sarah, the harder she would work to do the same for him. He figured it was his turn to do her a favour considering the treat that had started all this, but Sarah refuted the logic.
"You came up with the first plan. My turn to come up with one for you," she insisted. James wasn't about to persuade her otherwise.
"Anything catch your eye?" he asked.
"Explain this one to me a bit more".
Sarah lifted the second page towards James and held a perfectly painted nail against James' fifth entry on the list titled 'fake masseuse'.
"I went on holiday last year with my parents," began James. "Just after the exam results actually. A very nice resort in Spain. And they had this hotel spa where I booked a massage. And it was really full on and intimate - I was completely naked under the towel and this woman was rubbing almost every inch of me with oil."
"Mmmmm, was she hot?"
"No, she was about 50 and had a moustache."
"But the point is, after I had finished I saw another woman in a towel go into another room for a massage and she really was hot. And a male masseuse followed her in! I remember thinking, 'wow, if only I could get in with the spa staff and get them to let me pretend to be a masseuse'. I'd have waited until a foxy client came in and spent 60 minutes with my hands all over her. And she's on vacation - she's not going to know that I'm not staff!"
"Of course I'm not trained. I'd probably be found out after 10 minutes of rubbing the wrong muscles."
"Not to mention the disproportionately large amount of time you'd spend on the tits."
"Well yeah, there's that too," James acknowledged with a chuckle. "I guess I'd have to pace myself."
Sarah pondered and was silent for a minute or so as James nursed his beer. Finally she looked up and fixed him with one of her trademark dirty smiles.
"A plan is forming," she declared cryptically.
The conversation then moved on to other entries in the list and eventually onto the intriguing fantasies typed by Sarah. They chatted and drank and flirted well past closing time, the landlord seemingly rewarding them for their custom by leaving them be and letting them order from the bar long after the pub had closed - what the British lovingly call a 'lock-in'. The seeds they planted in each other's minds that evening would bear sensual fruit for many years to come.
A little under two weeks later, James received a call at his parents' house where he was staying for the summer while they cruised around the Mediterranean. He desperately hoped it was Sarah - he hadn't heard a peep from her since the lock-in and was desperate to share his thoughts about her list. But the youthful, slightly posh voice on the other end of the line was wasn't hers.
"Oh, hi there. Is that James?" said the young woman in an upbeat, genial tone that immediately sat well him.
"Er, yes it is. Who's that?"
"My name's Emma. I was given your number by Sarah Parsons. I'd like to book you in for a massage if I can?"
James froze. Usually so good thinking on his feet, he had a minor panic attack at being so woefully underprepared for this opportunity.
"Oh I'm sorry, I've got the wrong number haven't I?" she offered.
Faced with the fear of letting this chance slip through his fingers, James' brain finally kicked into gear.
"No no. You've got the right number. Sorry, the receiver was playing up. Did you say Sarah Parsons?"
"Yes, she was eulogising about her sessions with you so I thought I'd book one too."
"I'd be happy to. Emma, I don't have my diary with me right now, would you mind if I called you back later today to arrange a time?"
"No of course not. Sorry, it is a bit early isn't it? Have you got a pen?"
James jotted down her number and promised to call back as soon as he could. She gushed with thanks and put the phone down. James replaced the receiver and stood in shock for a while before being startled back into lucidity by the phone ringing yet again.
"Hi James, it's Sarah. Thought I'd better give you some warning that you might be getting a phone call from a lovely young lady in the next few days."
"You're a bit late. I've just got off the phone with her now."
"Oh Shit, have we blown it?"
"No, I blagged it. Told her I'd call her back when I found my diary. Who is she? What did you tell her?"
"God she's keen. I only gave her your number this morning. Call her back and tell her 7.00 Wednesday evening at the nurse's office at our school. I'll fill you in on the rest later. Meet me at Gino's for lunch."
James returned Emma's call and confirmed the appointment, careful to avoid engaging her in conversation in case he contradicted whatever Sarah had told her. In the brief exchange she sounded bubbly and sweet and James started imagining what she might look like.
At a local Italian cafe later that day, Sarah went through the details and revealed the extent of her planning.
"You know this running club I do with some of the sixth formers at Percy Forks?" she began.
Sir Percival Faulkner's school for girls was located just a short way down the road from James' old school. Another private establishment for well-to-do brain boxes, the two academic establishments were separate entities but they often collaborated in subjects such as music, drama and in some sports.
"Oh God, how old is she?" James queried.
"Don't worry, she's 18. Just finished her exams. Bit worried about university I think... interacting with all those young men after 7 years at a girls school."
Sarah gave James a trademark fruity look. He was intrigued.
"Go on," he said.
"Well, we all meet to go running about twice a week, and I've got to know some of them quite well. We even go out for drinks after the evening run sometimes. The ones who are old enough anyway. And I've been mentioning this wonderful guy who gives me a full body massage every once in a while. That he's young and sweet and training to be a physiotherapist and is offering cut price massage sessions to help him practice and train. That he's not yet qualified or experienced enough to do deep tissue techniques, but that it's such a relaxing and sensual hour that it really doesn't matter."
"That is absolutely genius," James marvelled.
"And you got a whole-hearted recommendation from me. I mentioned you to all the girls I thought you might be interested in getting your hands on, but this girl Emma was the only one I gave your number to."
"Well, first off she's got a body I really think you'll appreciate rubbing oil into. I've checked her out in the changing room showers, and I think I've got a pretty good idea of what you're into. But mainly it's because of the way she reacted when I subtly suggested the more 'sensual' aspects of the massage. I think she'll be, shall we say, a little more receptive to your touch?"
James was developing a crushing erection just hearing about this.
"We need to set up the first aid room to be more like a spa. I can do that. Candles and a tape player and stuff. We'll wheel the recovery bed into the centre of the room. It's like a massage table anyway, the mattress is so hard. It's height adjustable too."
"Outstanding. You've really thought of everything."
"One more thing. I told her that you would ask her if she would rather you avoided massaging her buttocks and breasts. Figured it would make you sound more professional and also give you an opportunity to read the situation; see if it would be appropriate for your wandering hands to do their thing. But I wholeheartedly recommended that she let you. Said it was the best part."
"Paint a bit of a picture for me. What's she like?"
"I don't want to say too much in case I build her up. Let's just say tall, lovely long brown hair and tits bigger than mine."
That final bit of info elicited an audible moan from James' throat. Sarah giggled, pleased that her machinations were yielding the desired results.
On the evening of the massage, Sarah met James at his old school. Despite it being the summer holidays, the main building and a select few sports facilities were kept open and maintained by a skeleton crew of administrators and cleaners. The main building, which housed the nurse's office, was essentially deserted and would be locked up at 10.00 - plenty of time for James to indulge his fantasy with his unwitting, if not unwilling, customer.
Sarah showed him to the first aid room and was knocked out by the effort she had put in to decorate it appropriately: dozens of tea lights gave the room a soft, dimly-lit glow; relaxing classical music played at a low volume via a cassette player; and a burning incense stick filled the space with a flowery perfume. The adjustable bed, usually something terrifying-looking with a plasticky mattress topping a multitude of folding legs and wheels, was now an invitingly cosy table of white cotton and linen in the centre of the room.
"Right," said Sarah, clapping her hands together. "You brought the oil?"
"About 10 different varieties," responded James, holding up a heavy plastic bag as proof.
"You've done your homework about towel positions and stuff? What to ask and how to start?"
"I think so."
"Great. Well have fun." She indicated his black track suit bottoms and tight-fitting black T-shirt with a waft of her hand. "You certainly look the part. I've got some work to be getting on with. I'll pop by after your 'appointment' and take you to the pub. You can tell me all about it."
It was 7:05, twenty minutes after Sarah had left him, and James was worried he was going to be stood up. He was considering leaving to find his old teacher in the building when a bundle of hair and energy come exploding through the door of the nurse's office.
"I am sooo sorry," the young lady gasped, before catching her breath and addressing James with a much more assured if slightly too loud voice. "I don't know why I thought the medical room would be in exactly the same place as in our school, but I went there anyway. Got lost. I'm Emma, pleased to meet you."
James shook an outstretched hand and quickly examined the young woman it was attached to. Certainly tall, she stood a good few inches over him even in just her trainers. Her face was open and beaming and James couldn't decide what was smiling more; her full lipped mouth or her large brown eyes. She was fixing him with such an intense yet happy gaze that he couldn't avert his eyes from her face to examine her other attributes. She had golden brown skin and not much make up except for a huge amount of eye shadow, which only served to make her eyes look bigger. She was incredibly pretty, like a fashion model but with a rounder, friendlier face.
"Hi, I'm James. Don't worry this place is like a maze. I'm amazed you found it at all."
"Well Mrs Parsons did tell me but I've got a rubbish sense of direction. Where shall I put these?"
Emma held up the two bags in her hands and hyperactively looked around giving James a brief opportunity to look at her body. Sarah hadn't been lying about her breasts; even buried under several layers of thin material and a hefty bra (judging by the thick blue shoulder strap on show), their ample nature couldn't be disguised. She was not as slim as, say, Sarah Parsons, but she certainly was not overweight in any way. James imagined that her frequent running had given her a decently toned physique. He was about to find out first hand.
"Just pop them on that corner chair over there."
As she turned away from him to deposit her belongings, he could see how long her straight brown hair was, the ends almost obscuring her behind. Her ass was not small but was incredibly round and pert. Some women, James noticed, simply had a place where their thighs met their back in a rather nondescript fashion. This was not the case with Emma - she had an ass! And a fucking good one. She turned around and swept her long straight-cut fringe away from her dark fluttering eyelashes.