The Prize Ch. 03

P.J. turned on her side, looked at the young man's back, the taut, muscled, smooth back. He was sleeping soundly, sweat still matting the dark curls along his neck, resting from the early morning marathon. This is not going to work, she thought. He takes too much work, too much time.

Brian, the young man in question, had been in P.J.'s head and bed for two months now. They had spent almost every night together since they'd met, more and more of Brian's clothing and personal items making their way into P.J.'s home. Brian was intelligent and serious minded, but not always focused. Intelligence is good, she thought. But his sense of humor is not deep. No fun. Well, fun, she thought, but not funny. He was able to focus when directed, but was not always self-disciplined. That's where the work came in. The time. Trying to keep him focused on his studies. Squelching her own physical desires in order to prevent his academic downfall.

Of late, and she knew it was her fault, Brian had been studying her more than his subjects. His physical stamina was truly remarkable. Not how long he could last. That was normal, whatever normal was. It was the number of times in close succession that he could achieve a hard on. She had caught herself more than once teasing him into lovemaking just to see if indeed he could get it up again. This was not nice and she knew it. She just couldn't help it. Well, she could. But she didn't. Not enough anyway. Remarkable. She also knew that one of the reasons he had such stamina was because he was so serious about what he was doing. Again, no fun. Good, but not always fun. She required humor in lovemaking from time to time. Brian took sex very seriously.

P.J. abruptly stopped this line of thought.. She was mentally lying. She adored Brian. He had gotten into some places she had thought were closed. He held up a conversation as well as men twice his age. Literature, philosophy, history, economics, science, oh, could he talk science. Teach her about science. She needed to know, loved to learn. He taught her.

The mind. His mind. The ordered mind. Maybe that's what it was. Brian wasn't steeped in literature, but he was astute. One of P.J.'s favorite authors was Henry James, not palatable to most of the reading population of the universe. The nuances, the delicate explosions, the sinuous sentences, not to everyone's taste. Brian embraced James. Started at the beginning and worked his way to "The Golden Bowl." He'd done it in short order. She'd spent time with him on the more difficult pieces, but he needed little direction once he'd gotten the gist of James's work.

Along the way, in this abbreviated time frame, P.J. had done something she hadn't intended to do. She had gotten very attached to the young man. It wasn't just the strong, youthful body and the handsome face. It wasn't just the mind. In addition to these things, Brian was caring, nice, unselfish. His good nature had won her over more than she had cared to be won. He was not even as unfunny as she liked to believe. It simply made it easier to think about. To think about it being over. When his curly black hair and clear, calm blue eyes greeted her in the mornings, she wondered why she'd spent the last few years alone. So nice to have someone to wake up to.

But it could not, should not, be. As much as she liked the young man, P.J. knew that for his sake she had to turn him loose. His future, she felt, would be a successful one, and he didn't need a woman as old as she was to hold him back.

Brian was, P.J. smiled at the thought, a very perceptive pupil in bed. He had been eager to learn, eager to please. There were definitely some high points to the last weeks. But it was time to move on. He deserved an adoring, patient, giving, sensitive, loving partner. She knew she was not it. Would not be it. A way would become clear. She felt it in her bones.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

P.J.'s office hours on Thursday afternoon were generally undisturbed by students. They tended to come either immediately before or after classes. Her door was open as she scanned the computer monitor's screen, checking for e-mails that deserved her attention. She became aware of someone in the doorway and glanced up to see Savannah. This was the young woman she knew Brian had dated off and on. They had discussed her. In fact, during the last week, since P.J. had been thinking of how to extricate herself from this attachment, she had purposefully asked Brian about his dating habits. He was not as forthcoming as she'd hoped. She admitted to herself that she'd probably pushed it too much in an attempt to find a way out. A less hurtful way.

P.J. had not really been curious about Savannah, or the other one, what was her name, Julie, Julia? She had been fishing for some information to help her with what she knew was before her . . . the conversation about moving on. Her only thought was that she hoped neither of them was a twit. She hoped that they were not shallow. Hoped they had the sense to see this young man's potential. Hoped that they knew how time consuming he might be and did not mind. In the long run, Brian would require someone who was intelligent, determined, devoted, and selfless.

As she appraised the girl before her, P.J. wondered if the confident, beautiful exterior reflected the interior. If so, Savannah could be a contender. She had long, wavy strawberry blonde hair that fell just to the shoulders. It was thick and shiny. Touchable. A mere sprinkling of pale freckles dotted her untanned, unlined face. P.J. wondered where else such freckles might appear. She was medium height, around 5'5" or so, shapely, not stick thin and not overly round. She was attractively dressed, in style, but not overly exposed. A simple pale pink, v-necked t-shirt, revealing ample breasts, neatly tucked into a denim skirt. Strappy sandals barely covered her feet. Both finger and toe nails were splashed with a sparkling pink paint. The mouth, too. Pouty. Shiny. Just right.

What followed in the next seven or so minutes was one of the most remarkable conversations that P.J. had ever experienced. It was one of a mere handful of human communications experienced during a lifetime that takes place on a level so stripped of human foibles that actual words seemed superfluous. She believed that the conversation could have taken place via telepathy had she and Savannah known how to employ the technique.

P.J. had appraised the girl in seconds, the girl appraising the woman at the same time. She was not hesitant. She looked the professor in the eyes and introduced herself.

"Dr. Stewart. I'm Savannah McLaine. A friend of Brian Cane's. May I speak with you? Privately?"

P.J. had already risen.

"Please," she said as she swept her arm towards one of the empty chairs facing her desk. "Close the door and have a seat."

Savannah turned halfway around to shut the office door, turned back, and had a seat. She kept both feet on the ground, did not cross them. She folded her arms at the elbows, leaned forward slightly, and placed them on the edge of the desk. Her face, the expression, was neutral, the voice modulated.

There was no pretense, no jealousy, no vacillation.

"I would like to know if you are ready to relinquish Brian now." She looked the older woman squarely in the eyes.

The older woman's eyes must have reflected something that the younger one understood.

"Relinquish?" the older woman asked, not feigning surprise at the use of the word.

"If you'd rather, then let go, not relinquish. Is that more suitable?" Savannah asked.

"You make it sound as if I've chained him up," P.J. said, curious about the choice of words still.

"Well," the girl continued. "In a way, you have." Her look never wavered. She spoke again. "I know that you and Brian have been having sex for a while now. I know when it started. There was an immediate change in him. It took me about a week to find out it was you. I've given this plenty of time. So, what I want to know is whether or not you're ready to give him up."

P.J. did not hesitate but immediately answered, "Yes."

Now Savannah's face must have reflected something the older woman recognized. P.J. repeated clearly, "Yes," and leaned forward, not folding her arms as Savannah's, but with the forearms touching the top of the desk from the elbow down, finger tips pointing directly at Savannah's chest.

"I am relieved you're here," P.J. continued. "In fact, I've been racking my brain trying to figure a way out of this." There was no brutality or harshness in the statement. It was simple truth.

Savannah apparently appreciated the lack of complication.

"Good," she said, still no emotional tinge to the voice. She leaned back in the chair only to retake the previous position almost immediately.

P.J. began to explain her statement. "I, well, I didn't mean what I said to sound . . ."

A near imperial wave of her right hand and Savannah dismissed the explanation.

"No, no. I understand perfectly. I mean, I understand that you were not being vicious or anything." She paused, but only briefly. "Do you mind me asking if you care for him?"

P.J. was a bit surprised by the question, a state that must have been communicated when one eyebrow arched.

"Oh. I think you know I didn't mean that to sound . . . ," Savannah attempted to explain.

"No. It's O.K. You mean was I just fucking him . . . an old woman fucking a handsome young man." P.J. looked the young woman directly in the face. "Do you think I'd have kept it up this long if that were the case?"

"No," Savannah shook her head. "I . . . it's just that I wanted you to care for him. I . . . well . . . I didn't want him to be used." She was sincere.

P.J. was happy with the girl's response. She cared for Brian. They both did it seemed.

Savannah glanced down at her lap. When she raised her eyes again, they strayed to her left along the wall comprised of floor to ceiling shelves cradling hundreds of books. Her gaze went first to the top, then slowly made its way to the lowest shelf. She sighed. Not sadly. A simple sigh.

The young woman's eyes turned back to the older one's. The look was one of frankness. She licked her bottom lip, took a short, deep breath, and spoke.

"Would you teach me, Dr. Stewart?" She was in earnest.

"Teach you what, Savannah? I don't understa . . ." P.J. did not complete the word. It struck her why the girl was here. Like lightning. She wanted to learn about sex.

P.J. leaned back in her chair, arms moving up to rest on it. The left hand came up to her forehead for a second then she ran her fingers through her hair, shook it out with the human comb.

She stood. Turned away from the girl and took the few steps that placed her in front of the large window. She pressed her forehead to the cool glass, palms turned outwards, resting on the wide ledge, then stepped her legs back, left then right, slightly spread. Her behind arched up.

Savannah took this opportunity to study the woman. Thick, dark hair, some gray sprinkled around. She usually wore the hair up, but today it was down, straight and shiny, a bit below her shoulders. She wore a slim, sleeveless dress. Pale green. It was not too short, but revealed shapely legs. Savannah marveled at the woman's behind. It was firm and high. The arms were not mushy. There was something strong and soft about her all at the same time. She understood Brian's fascination. She wondered what the behind would be like in the flesh.

She knew that the woman had understood her request, not at first, but now. She waited for the reply. She didn't have long to wait.

P.J. turned to face the girl. She wanted her to recognize the extraordinary nature of what she'd asked.

"Do you understand," P.J. asked slowly and carefully, her eyes on the girl's, "what you've asked? It's not too late to take back the question." She left the girl an out.

"I know exactly what I asked. That's why I came here. I already knew you were ready to let go. I watch you . . . I've been watching you. I see it. I've watched the two of you when you have coffee in The Cave. The way you look at him when he isn't looking at you. Which, by the way, isn't often." There was no jealousy. Not a whit. "Men," she concluded, "are not equipped to read things like that. At least," she added, "men in love."

P.J. continued to look at Savannah. Her eyes narrowed a bit then returned to a normal size, smiling. "And when did you first observe this look of mine?"

"Oh, I've been watching since I figured out it was you. I noticed the change about two weeks ago. I have to watch. I have a stake in this."

Savannah spoke again when P.J. didn't speak.

"I won't mince words," she said.

I guess not, P.J. thought to herself. You haven't so far.

"Brian and I have slept together, but it was never as exciting as I thought it might be. And it wasn't for him either. I could tell. It wasn't anybody's fault. I wasn't a virgin, but I have very limited experience. He does," she paused, "did, too." She eyed the older woman differently for a second. "We haven't had sex since the two of you started. In fact, I've hardly seen him." The girl paused, grazed her fingers across her eyebrows, and continued.

"I want to be able to do what you do. To him." It was a statement, not a request.

"Why?" P.J. asked. "Why do you want to?"

"I wondered if you'd ask." Brief pause. "I knew the first time Brian and I met that I would be with him the rest of my life. I know how stupid that sounds. But I'm not some starry-eyed little freak. I just knew. That's all." Another pause. "I know what I can do for him." She looked at the other woman defiantly for the first time in this extraordinary exchange.

"Oh, believe me," P.J. said. "I know I don't have what it takes. I'm too self-centered, too independent, too busy to spend my time helping him become what he's meant to be. Not to mention the fact that I'm way too old for him." P.J. reached over the desk to touch Savannah's arm and shook her head from side to side. "I have no illusions about being able to fulfill that position. I have no desire to fulfill that position. I'm not strong enough."

Savannah almost choked. The woman before her, she had concluded over the past weeks, was stronger than anyone she personally knew. She intended to be that strong one day.

"So, does that mean you'll help me, teach me?"

"Let's have some clarification here, please." P.J. wanted to know exactly what Savannah expected.

"Do you want me to teach you, as in tell you things? Or, do you mean you want me to have sex with you, show you?"

Savannah shook her head negatively, then replied.

"No. Both. All. What I mean is that I want you to show me with Brian."

"With Brian?" P.J. asked and shot up the eyebrow again. The girl nodded affirmatively. "Do you mean you want me to be a coach while the two of you have sex, or you want to watch while Brian and I have sex?"

Savannah, for the first time, looked mildly flustered. "I'm not sure. I think both." She looked down, but for only a second.

Now P.J. leaned all the way over the desk. She cupped Savannah's chin in her right hand, tilting it up.

"Are you very, very sure of what you're asking? Have you played this thing out in your mind? Are you sure you are willing to do this," P.J. inquired.

Savannah reached up with her left hand, took P.J.'s right one in her hand then let it drop. "Yes. It is exactly what I want and what we, Brian and I, both need. Maybe even you, too."

Astute, P.J. thought. Perhaps I do need it too. Leave him in capable hands.

"Savannah. Don't mince words with me now, please. Tell me whether what I'm about to say is what you mean, or not." She placed both hands on Savannah's cheeks. "Do you mean to be hidden, watch Brian and me have sex, then join us? Or, do you have some other scenario in mind?"

P.J. removed her hands, giving Savannah a chance to process the question. P.J. sat again.

Savannah looked at the woman. It was exactly what she had in mind.

"You have it just right. That's what I was thinking. Can that be done? I mean, how?

"How what? Oh. You mean hide you. That's easy," P.J. returned. "You'll simply arrive before he does. My closet door is not more than six feet from the bed. You can position yourself there and leave the door open enough to see when we enter the bedroom. After Brian and I start . . ." P.J. paused.

"Fucking," Savannah supplied the word.

"Uh . . . yes." P.J. wasn't sure she liked that term applied to what she and Brian did, but . . . perhaps that's what it was.

"Anyway, when you determine that Brian is distracted enough not to notice, then you can open the door wider and observe at a closer range."

They looked at one another, knowingly. No words were spoken about the subject that was in both their minds. The older one spoke first.

"I'll take care of it. He'll believe that I'm the one. It'll be fine." P.J. assured her.

"Thank you," Savannah said. "You're O.K. with this?"

"Oh, yes. I'm fine." P.J. admired the woman before her, admired her because she knew what she wanted. She would have it.

Savannah stood up, extending her right hand. P.J. stood again, reaching for the extended hand with her own. They shook.

"Be at my home between 7:00 and 7:15 p.m. tomorrow night. Brian won't be there until around 8:00. Know where I live?"

"Oh, yeah. I know. I'll be there." Savannah stopped in mid-turn towards the door. She turned back. "Anything special I need to do? Know?"

P.J. smiled at her. "No. Just be sparkling clean and wear your sexiest underwear. It doesn't matter what you're wearing other than that."

Savannah smiled back. "I can do that. I don't have any really sexy underwear, but I can get some. See you tomorrow." She turned and walked out, shoulders back, head up, assured in her measured gait.

P.J. shook her head side to side in wonder. This woman loved Brian very much. P.J. was glad. Her bones had been right. She wondered, rather excitedly, rather sadly, what tomorrow night would bring.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

7:05 p.m. Friday evening. The doorbell at the back entrance rang. P.J. went to the door, opened it, and ushered Savannah in. She looked fresh and a bit flushed. P.J. looked over the young woman's shoulder. Good. No vehicle. As if reading her mind, Savannah smiled and said, "It's not visible. It's on the next street over." She smiled again.

P.J. didn't allow for small talk. She immediately led Savannah up the stairs to her bedroom, saying she wanted to show Savannah where to bestow herself until it was time for her to join them. They reached the bedroom and walked several steps inside.

When P.J. reached the door of the closet, she opened it. "You'll be in here when Brian and I come upstairs. Leave the door open a bit, enough to see and hear through. When we get thoroughly engaged, go ahead and open the door enough for a better view."

P.J. paused. Wondered if Savannah would be able to handle this.

"Are you sure you're ready for this, dear?" P.J. asked, studying the young woman's face.

"Yes," Savannah said immediately. "It's something that has to be done. It's something I want to do. Sex can't be the way I've experienced so far. People wouldn't kill for that. I want something to kill for." She was emphatic, moving her arms and hands as she spoke.

The intensity surprised P.J. The young woman was serious. Serious. A good match for Brian.

"You won't change your mind, will you? Feel strange? You already know we've been sleeping together." She paused, then finished with another question to Savannah. "You're all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine. I'm excited, really. I'm ready. I want to see. To learn. To know what he likes. I am very ready for this," Savannah explained, again using her hands and arms for emphasis.

"Savannah. This is going to be, well, arousing. I mean, it's going to arouse you if you're not jealous."