The Training of Jeff Stintum Ch. 06

Chapter 6: Dinner

For weeks after meeting Sarah for coffee, Jeff really didn't know what he was doing. His parents had made all the necessary arrangements with his landlord to front the rent for his old place until new tenants were found, and Jeff now lived in their upstairs guest bedroom (which he refused to call "his" bedroom, since it was temporary), where he spent much of his time sitting and staring into empty space, often drinking as well. He had stopped going out to bars, trying to pick up girls. He wasn't reading his conspiracy theory book anymore, because he just didn't have the energy. He had tried to write down some story ideas on a piece of paper, but after just a few scribbles he had weakly pushed the pen through the paper and let it drop to the floor. He had picked up a brick or two of his sculpting mix and attempted to fashion a thing or two, but they just came out as amorphous blobs. The same had happened with his music; he simply had no ideas, no inspiration, no spirit. His appetite had waned even further, and his body grew thinner still. He spent his days mostly lying in his bed, listless, his mind straying into places he was trying to avoid, and yet felt so drawn towards.

What he did know was that Sarah had put some kind of spell on him. That was the only explanation for how he was feeling — it had to be. She was some kind of scientist...she probably knew about chemicals and aerosols and all of that stuff, so she had obviously dosed him with something, right? There could be no other reason why his mind, his life, could be taken over like this. Ever since their brief little coffee date, Jeff's thoughts seemed helplessly, inevitably drawn to Sarah, to the memory of her body, her smell, her voice, her aura. In just a brief few minutes of interaction, she had turned his mind into a compass that always pointed north, to the North Star, to her.

Of course, Jeff didn't think specifically in these terms. He was too confused to make much sense of anything that was going on in his head. What he knew was that as soon as he went home after coffee with Sarah, he had masturbated. Not to the porn he usually watched, but to....her. What it was about her, Jeff didn't know. He couldn't really explain it to himself. What he began to realize as the weeks went by was that he was masturbating more and more, every day, to the thought of Sarah doing...of her talking — no, that wasn't it...of her standing over....of her body next to his...he didn't really know.

What he was vaguely, slowly becoming aware of, was that the idea, the feeling of her looming over him, or of her limbs or body next to his, made him defenselessly aroused, to the point of disability. Jerking off, next to drinking, was now his main preoccupation, and he felt caught in this terrible haze of arousal and self-loathing. He hated this sex-induced paralysis — he should be organizing those meetings! Reading those books! Churning out those beats! And yet any sense of agency, any motivation, was utterly absent. His thoughts alighted on nothing, nothing, nothing, until, unavoidably, they pointed once again, over and over, to Sarah.

The thought of texting her, or even calling her, was constantly on his mind, but he didn't act. He felt like if he did, he would be lost forever, carried away in a flood of something he could not control, something he despised. The way she had just snapped that hair tie back on her wrist as she walked away...he just couldn't understand how an action so simple could sum up so much of what he was jerking himself off to every day. He wasn't even marveling at the size of his cock anymore. Nothing about him was big, nothing. He was beginning to have the slow realization that he had taken a tiny step into a much larger world, one totally incomprehensible to him, one without grounding and swirling with indistinct, huge, and threatening shapes. And he...couldn't get enough of it.

One late morning, hung over as usual, he woke up to a text from Sarah. "Hi Jeff! It was great seeing you a few weeks ago — I've been thinking about you :) hope that hip isn't too bad. Is your surgery scheduled yet? Hit me up! I can have you over to my place. Bring some of your art! <3" That was the extent of the text. But Jeff sat on his bed, hunched over his phone, reading and re-reading it for some time. What did it mean? Was she seducing him? Was this part of her grand plan for ensnaring him? No, that was crazy thinking, this was Sarah! His old neighbor! Smart, cute, funny, little —no, that narrative didn't work in his head anymore. As much as Jeff had tried and tried over the past few weeks, he could no longer entertain the handsome idea that Sarah was his protege. This concept, even in Jeff's head, had become absurd. The sheer weight of real-world facts stood in his way. She had her own house, she paid for it all, she was was a scientist, she was...big, she was an adult. He could not think of her as a child anymore.

But once again, as he stood on her front doorstep a few days later, Jeff was feeling, with that old creeping familiarity, very much like a child. Her house was a nice: one story, brick, in a nice part of town, and actually not too far from his parents' place. So close, in fact, that he had walked, despite his hip. She had a respectable front yard, with shrubs and flowers neatly planted amongst each other. Did Sarah garden too? He held a couple of sheets of printed paper under his arm, the fruits of a few hasty days of typing, and he had in his hand a small, grey attempt at a tree, which he had sculpted out of clay. It was getting towards evening time, and Sarah was making pasta.

He had just rang the doorbell and had stepped back, crippled by the clash between an instinct to run away and another, stronger, less familiar instinct, to stay. He heard her body approaching the door, and he almost ran, but didn't.

"Hi hi!!" said Sarah as she opened the door, beaming. "Come on in! Oh! I see that you brought me some art, huh?"

Jeff stood entrenched, and simply held out the small sculpture of his tree to her, unable to move otherwise. Compared to his vague, private fantasies these past few weeks, her size was simply unparalleled in person. She must have gotten bigger. Or he had gotten smaller — she stood there in the doorway, seeming to almost fill it completely, despite the fact that her clothes were completely form-fitting. She was wearing a white t-shirt that hung loosely around her stomach and waist, but that was stretched at the top by her breasts and shoulders. Good lord, were her breasts really that big? Her arms were substantial and muscular, but partially softened in a way that made them look feminine. Had she been a swimmer maybe? Softball? And Jeff would have shaken his head and gaped (if he was capable of movement) when he saw that she wore tight black yoga pants that expanded and strained to contain her prodigious curves. Her hips looked twice the size of her waist — surely that was impossible. Her thighs were thick pillars which were the only things that could have possibly supported her massive frame, with an ass that curved around from her thighs and was present, if only glimpsed from the front. She was in her bare feet, and Jeff saw a tiny sliver of flesh, in between her t-shirt and her yoga pants, that was exposed.

Sarah stared at the sculpture a moment, before saying quickly, "It looks great Jeff! Why don't you come on inside and we can take a closer look, huh? And you've got some writing too? Wow, you brought me everything!" She beckoned him with an open-fingered hand, and he shuffled on past her breasts inside. She had moved a bit to let him through, but he still felt squeezed as he moved past her doorframe. As he passed her body, Jeff smelled the unmistakable scent of sandalwood.

Sarah closed the door behind him, turning the lock casually. Her bare feet pivoted back to him on the hardwood floor. "Well, this is my house!" she said, gesturing with her arms and laughing.

"It's....really nice," Jeff managed to say. And it was. The front foyer, as well as the kitchen that Jeff glimpsed through the hallway up ahead, were painted a soft white and were all brightly lit with comfortable and homely orange light. To the left was the dining room, complete with a stylish chandelier and a dark wooden table, upon which a few tall candles were lit in a candelabra. Its walls were painted a deep red, and Jeff couldn't help but feel that Sarah, in addition to her other talents, definitely had a knack for home decor. The smell of basil and garlic completed the cozy domestic portrait.

"Yeah, it's all I need, really," said Sarah, looking around. "Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, living room, dining room, kitchen, an actual yard — what's not to like?"

"Yeah," said Jeff, fixating on the word "bedrooms." "Do you...I didn't know that — um, do you garden?" Jeff stammered as Sarah began walking past him during his question, gesturing with her hand to follow.

"Garden?" she asked as she led him down a bright, wide, and well-lit hallway, "I wish! I just have the landscapers keep it up every few weeks. They do such a good job, don't you think?"

"I really...yeah, I l-l-liked the flowers and shrubs," remarked Jeff. He had tried to look at the wall as Sarah led him down the hallway, but he could only stare at the two enormous cheeks of ass muscle that were undulating up and down in front of him, speaking some lewd arcane language that he couldn't help but understand.

Sarah chuckled softly as she led him on without turning around. "Mmmm, yes, the flowers and shrubs are nice. Well, here's the kitchen! I've got dinner staying warm on the stove. I have a dining room, but that seems kinda weird and formal, right? Let's just eat in here! Grab a stool and I'll serve you up a plate; then I can look at that cool stuff you brought. Sound good?"

Jeff achieved a nod and looked at the stools that stood around the kitchen island. The stool was about three feet high, and Jeff had to get on his tip-toes and hop a little bit to get up into the seat, which was rectangular and made a nice curved support for his small frame. His legs dangled a bit after he got himself situated. He put his sculpture and his papers down on the counter, and placed his arms on the counter as well. Sarah had her back turned, serving up plates from the stove, and Jeff quickly realized that he was uncomfortable with his arms as they were. Instead of leaning down and in on his crossed arms like he intended, Jeff found himself pushing his chest into them, because the counter was too high. So he settled for putting his hands on either side of him on the stool, propping himself up a bit in the process. His entire palms fit comfortably next to his butt on both sides of the seat.

Sarah had served up everything and was bringing over the plates: spaghetti and meatballs, steamed broccoli, garlic bread. "Pretty simple food," she said with a wink, passing him his plate, "But simple goes a long way, right? It's hard to fuck up a classic dish like this."

Once again, Jeff had jolted at Sarah's use of profanity, and she noticed. She laughed as she slid into the stool next to Jeff's; she actually had to bend down to plant herself on the seat, and Jeff saw that when she was settlted, her thighs and ass filled up the seat completely, spilling amply over both ends of the stool. Her feet also comfortably sat flat-footed on the ground. She wasn't sitting on the stool like Jeff; she was half-standing, and still, she rose above him over the counter as she placed her chin deliberately in her arms as she faced Jeff. She still had on a ring or two, and a couple bracelets, including, he knew, the hair tie.

"You're so funny Jeff. I would've never pinned you as a guy who cared much about bad words." She picked up her fork and started twirling her pasta into a large bunch. She looked at him humorously and punctuated her sentence by sliding the fork full of rotated pasta into her mouth.

"Well, no. No, no I don't care about that," said Jeff, trying to laugh as he found himself rushing to imitate Sarah and twirl his pasta. "It's just...it's just, well...you know...."

Sarah let him hang for a moment longer with a grin as she picked up some garlic bread, before she finally took pity on him and laughed. "Haha, don't worry Jeff, I'm just kidding around. I know it's weird to see me like this after so many years. It's pretty weird for me too, you know." She crunched into her garlic bread, and Jeff couldn't help but notice a jolt in his pants as he saw her bright white teeth bared in implication of attack as she went at the bread for a bite or two more. She must have been hungry.

"It's w-weird for you too?" Jeff asked.

Sarah had reached for her water glass and had already gulped it halfway down before she answered, twirling more pasta with her right hand without looking at it. "Well yeah! I mean you go off to college and we don't see each other for ten years and when we do, it's in a hospital, just like, a happenstance." She ate another large forkfull of pasta, and Jeff realized that he needed to really eat his food. He became suddenly afraid of the prospect of Sarah finishing her plate before him, and started attempting to unceremoniously shovel pasta into his mouth. Sarah looked at him, smiling.

"You know, it's easier if you do it like this." She showed him her twirling technique again, which looked so effortlessly performed by her large hand and wrist. Even though she was so much larger than him, her movements were that much more nuanced and delicate.

"Umm...ok, like this?" Jeff tried to imitate her again and achieved a respectable pasta ball at the end of his fork, only to have it slide off in one bunch as he brought it up to his mouth. Jeff felt his heart drop as he looked at his pasta and heard Sarah laughing above him.

"No, silly, like this." He saw her hand and forearm come into his view as she reached over to his plate with her fork. She tenderly finessed it through some of his pasta and softly gyrated her wrist a bit right and left as she began to twist the spaghetti into a tight ball at the end of her fork that grew and grew with each gentle twirl. Jeff saw the muscles and tendons working softly, subtly in her hand and wrist, and on up through her bare white forearm. His breathing grew rapid as his heart sped up against his will, and he felt the deep red color rising up through his neck and into his face. He began to panic.

But he felt a huge hand snake its way onto his shoulder, neck, and upper back, and squeeze him gently. Sarah hummed deeply above him as she continued twirling, and Jeff imagined that she had closed her eyes. "Shhh, don't worry Jeff, it's just pasta. Here." Jeff realized he had been looking down, and lifted his head up to see a fat bunch of steaming pasta, dripping with tomato basil sauce, presented in front of his face by a large feminine hand. Sarah was holding it up to him, and he turned to look at her, as if asking what to do next. She raised her eyebrows and smiled.

"Go ahead, Jeff! Try it!" And he could then do nothing more than open his mouth and try and get the whole bunch in his mouth at once. It was so large, though, that he only really managed to take a bite out of a third of it. He labored to chew, feeling his mouth and cheeks stretched.

"Woah there, a bit too much, actually!" Sarah laughed as she brought the remainder of the bunch to her mouth, quickly withdrawing her clean fork afterward. She had not even seemed to chew. "Why don't you go for one of those meatballs, huh? Tell me what you think." Still chewing, Jeff obligingly stabbed into one of the meatballs and brought it up to his mouth, appreciating that he would have to take it in several bites. He bit off what he felt was a respectable chunk, about a third of the meatball.

"Good?" asked Sarah. She had also stabbed a meatball and was easily putting the whole thing into her mouth. She chewed once or twice, swallowed, and was already on her second. "I actually made these from scratch. It's not really that hard, you know."

"It's...wwreawwlly goaouod," said Jeff through a full mouth.

"Thanks Jeff! I'm glad you like it. Keep on chewing, I don't want you to choke." She grinned brightly at him, and he returned her grin as best he could through his packed cheeks.

"Of course, even if you did choke, I know the Heimlich Maneuver," Sarah said, still smiling as she put down her fork and brought both of her arms around to her front, making a quick fist with one hand as she grasped it firmly with her other hand and tensed up her forearms. Her arms grew impressively before him, and he almost let the food fall out of his mouth. But just as quickly, Sarah was back to her plate, as Jeff continued working his jaw, trying to chew.

"So, what do we have here?" Sarah had stuck a couple stalks of broccoli with her fork and was cooly chewing as she delicately pulled over Jeff's sculpture with a few of her fingers. Jeff looked blankly at it and did not know what to think or say. It looked like it had been fashioned by someone in third grade. Even in his state of disarray, he was surprised to find himself successfully maintaining some kind of front.

"It's, um...well, it's a tree."

"Yes, I can see that," Sarah said benevolently, turning it around in interest with her fingers.

"...But it's not just a normal kind of tree. It's not a realistic tree. It's more of an abstract, uh...representation of the idea of a tree."

"Oh!" said Sarah deeply, raising her eyebrows again as she continued to turn the sculpture around. "I like it. Kind of like the Platonic forms, you know? His Theory of Forms?"

Jeff had bitten into his bread and was chewing again, but stopped a moment, staring at Sarah vacantly.

"You know, Plato? The Greek philosopher?" Sarah asked. She was finishing her pasta off with a flourish.

Jeff had heard this name a time or two before somewhere years ago, so he said, "Oh yeah! Yeah, Plato! Exactly. Yeah...exactly like that." He paused a moment as he looked from Sarah to his tree sculpture. She had stopped turning it and was now simply looking at it as she stuck the last bit of garlic bread in her mouth. Jeff's stomach squirmed when he realized that her plate was completely clean. "...And," he continued after a couple moments, "and...uh, it's kind of in the modern abstract mode...you know, like from the European school." Jeff had visited Wikipedia a time or two in the last few days in preparation.

Sarah swirled a long finger around on her plate, collecting a last few bits of sauce before she reached it up to her mouth and sucked on it gently, extracting the flavor, before withdrawing it smoothly.

"Aha! Very cool, Jeff. Very interesting." She turned to him and looked down at his plate, which was still almost completely full. "Oh! But Jeff, I've been making you talk. Eat up! I'm gonna get seconds." She hopped up cheerfully from her chair and in a couple of strides was already over at the stove. Jeff looked at his full plate, looked at her titanic figure by the stove, looked at his pitiful, sunken gray sculpture sitting there on the smooth marble countertop, and looked at the couple sheets of paper of his poetry that he had brought. Anxiety rose quickly in his chest, and cemented into dread as she returned to her stool with another full plate, giving him a warm smile with widened eyes. She thought he was ridiculous, he was telling himself. She was beginning to see through him. She was beginning to realize...what he had been up to...what he was. But no — even now, Jeff fought back. There was something in him that would not submit, and he suddenly knew that he had to keep her from reading that poetry.

"So...you, uh, own this place, then?" Jeff was proud of his nonchalant tone. "Your parents told me that this place is totally yours."