Author's note:

This is fiction.  It is not autobiographical, not even fictionalized
autobiography; though the first-person character draws heavily on who I
used to be many years ago, it would not really be fair to call him an
author expy.  The other characters do not draw on anyone real to any
significant extent.

Everdale was originally inspired by a self-growth organization I was
involved with briefly, but so many things have got changed in the
transition from reality to fiction that the relationship is definitely
no closer than "originally inspired by"; Everdale as it exists in this
story is, also, quite thoroughly fictional.

At this writing, there are some notes to myself, which are
double-bracketed [[ like this ]].  There are also a few pages of
unbracketed notes to myself at the end; the demarcation should be
fairly clear, if they're still there (I might eliminate them and forget
to udpate this note).

Enjoy!

Chapter 1: Background

My name - at least for these purposes - is Sean Dusselin, and this is
the tale Everdale has asked me to write.  Except for a few pieces of
speech recorded herein that I doubt I will forget until the day I die,
dialogue is reconstructed rather than verbatim.

It all began about six months ago, in late May.  Up to that time, I had
been repressing my sexual self pretty thoroughly - which I suppose
means it *really* began much longer ago, when my parents brought me up
in such a way as to produce that - and aside from masturbation, usually
quick furtive episodes when my body demanded them, I had no sex life.
Nor did I really miss having one, being as I was a computer geek
thoroughly engrossed in computers.

Anyway, in late May, as I said, my explorations of the world of online
communication led to a mud - though calling it a "mud" is perhaps
stretching a point; it was used as little more than a multi-channel
chat line - and I found myself spending more and more of my time on it.
(No, I can't give you its address; last I heard it had lost its host
and its administrators didn't seem to be working very hard on finding
it another.  But I'm getting ahead of myself.)  In particular, there
was someone using the name "ChrisL" with whom I felt a kinship, and
within two weeks of my arrival, we had established a pattern of talking
for hours about anything or nothing.  Then one day "ChrisL" showed up
and I, as usual, asked what he'd been up to recently...and the reply
absolutely floored me, both because of its content and because he'd
tell it to me.  ("jimdog" was the name I used.)

jimdog says, "whatcha been up to?"
ChrisL says, "Just got back from the sex shop...yourself?"
jimdog says, "sex shop???"
ChrisL says, "Yeah, I never told you?"
jimdog says, "nope"
ChrisL says, "I work at one.  Model."

I felt...I don't know.  Naughty, as if someone might catch me doing
something wrong - silly as that was, seeing as how I'd been living
alone for the past year.  And very, very excited.  Physically, I mean.
Enough so that I cut that conversation as short as I could and
masturbated.  Twice, in quick succession - and I could probably count
on one hand the number of times I had cum in quick succession over the
dozen-plus years since I first discovered that aspect of my body.

As if this marked a watershed of sorts, ChrisL and I talked about
little but sex over the next week or so; I told him more and more about
my life, in particular my (basically nonexistent) sex life.  After
about a week, he told me he'd decided something - from the sound of it,
decided to trust me with something - but didn't want to say it online,
wanting instead to use the phone, even offering to call.  I trusted
"ChrisL" enough to give my mundane name and voice phone number...and
got a call a few moments later.  A woman's voice asked for me by name,
and I admitted my identity, hoping it wouldn't take long because I'd
never gotten around to getting call waiting and didn't want this to
block Chris's call.

Then I was completely floored again when the woman on the phone claimed
to be ChrisL!  She rapidly convinced me she was my conversant of the
past few weeks, or at least had been privy to a large fraction of what
had passed between ChrisL and me.  All I could manage was incoherent
monosyllables for the first few minutes, while she said what she wanted
to say.  My head was spinning as I tried to rearrange my thoughts to
accommodate ChrisL being a woman; I must admit I cannot recall her
words from that call.  All I remember is that she wanted to tell me
something about a school, and I wrote down a name and telephone number.
I still have the piece of paper; it bears the Everdale name and
telephone number.  We must have hung up shortly thereafter.

I must have wandered around in a daze for a few minutes, because I next
remember staring at the caller-ID box, which still had the incoming
number from her call on it.  I suddenly noticed it was displaying no
area code (meaning the call was from within my area code), and as this
registered it stirred my brain out of its shocked state and I noticed
the exchange was one I knew, too - the number was local!  I then looked
at the piece of paper in my hand and saw the phone number was only
seven digits long, and I couldn't recall her asking anything about my
location - she must have noticed I was local too, and given me a local
number.

I could remember that she had referred to the place as a "school", but
couldn't recall anything more about it, such as what it taught or why I
might be interested.  I sat down to send email inquiring, and noticed I
was still on Nargo.  (That's the talker - its full name was
Nargothrond, but everyone called it Nargo; I had occasionally wondered,
but the two people I'd asked couldn't tell me, and to this day I have
no idea where the name came from.)  ChrisL had long since disconnected,
though, and I did the same and sent mail off, admitting to my failure
of memory and asking about the school, still trying to rearrange my
idea of "him" to be "her" instead.

I checked my mail almost constantly for the next hour or so, rereading
some pulp sf book - I can't even remember which one - in the meantime.
Eventually I got hungry and went out to eat.  When I got back, there
was email waiting.

	Dear Sean,

	Sorry my phone call rattled you so; whatever caused that, I
	didn't intend it.

	That school?  One might say it's adult sex-ed.  Among other
	things, they have courses designed for people who - like you,
	from what you've said - went through puberty in a physical
	sense but have never learned to enjoy their sexuality.

	I'm not going to urge you to attend.  Their introductory
	material says that they've had students who were there only
	because someone else wanted them to be; such students
	invariably report their experiences as much less pleasant than
	those who are there because _they_ want to be.  But I like you
	and you sound as though you've some unhappiness that you have
	no sex life, and I want you to have the option.

	- Chris

I managed to type out a reply explaining that I had been thinking of
"ChrisL" as male and that the shift had flustered me, thanking her for
her concern, and not much else.

Later that day I talked briefly online with him/her (I still hadn't
quite assimilated that change).  We both avoided saying anything even
vaguely sexual - me because I didn't know what I thought of the
suggestion that I might attend such a course, her, I don't know why.
We didn't even discuss my notion that "ChrisL" was male and how that
had flustered me on the phone.  I then wrote a few hundred lines of
code and turned in.  (The code was pure boilerplate, stuff I could
write in my sleep and had been putting off until a time when my brain
was in neutral and not good for much else.  My work-for-pay job is
behind-the-scenes for a comics shop, but I write code for a volunteer
project as well.)

I woke up late the next morning with a raging hard-on and memories of
what must have been at least two different erotic dreams.  I also
quickly discovered evidence that at least one of those dreams was a wet
dream - and I couldn't recall last time I had a wet dream.  I lost the
erection quickly at feeling the cold sticky mess, got up, rinsed out
the sheets, and threw them in the laundry.  I then dressed and departed
for work, still confused, feeling very excited and attracted by the
idea of that class but simultaneously uncomfortable with the notion,
somehow.  On the way home, I walked past a sex shop and found myself
tempted to walk in, wondering if this was the one Chris worked in,
since she was local - what was it she said she did?  I couldn't recall.
When I got home, I checked my session logs.  Model?  Model??  In a *sex
shop*?!?  She wasn't online and I felt drained, so I reread some
Zelazny and turned in early.

Next day I didn't have to work.  When I checked, Chris was online, and
upon seeing that I suddenly got some idea what people mean when they
say things like "my heart leapt into my mouth".  I very much wanted to
talk with her, but found myself strangely reluctant at the same time.
The former won out, though, and I found her behaving towards me just as
"he" always used to, which helped quiet the turmoil in my emotions with
familiarity.  She explained the gender mismatch as a deliberate thing
on her part - it started as an experiment to see if she could
convincingly play a transgendered character and developed to the point
where that simply was one of her online personae.  (She said she did
have a distinctly female character, but declined to tell me its name,
teasing me that I'd have to stir around and get acquainted, and maybe
I'd meet "her".)  She *had* noticed that we were local to one another,
and offered to meet me.  Before I could say anything, she offered the
opinion that a neutral public place would probably be best, which was a
relief to me; I had been wondering, hoping, fearing, unsure whether
this was an offer to "show me her etchings" or not and not quite daring
to ask outright - though I can't say which answer would have been more
welcome.  When I asked when and where, she said that that day was not
possible for her because she had to leave for work in about half an
hour and had to "shop and stuff" after work.  This reminded me what
"work" was for her, but I couldn't quite make myself ask just what
being a model for a sex shop entailed.  But we did find a time suitable
for both of us, and settled on a convenient shopping center which had a
bunch of restaurants with a shared group of tables.  We traded
descriptions and identification signs; she then disconnected to prepare
to leave for work, leaving me wondering how I was going to get through
the next (umm, check the time) 25 and a half hours.

Chapter 2: First Meeting

The day did pass, eventually.  I arrived some fifteen minutes early,
having been careful to allow *plenty* of time.  Nobody looking anything
like the person I was looking for was in sight, so I picked up some
food - I can't recall what, so it must have been unexceptional - and
sat down.  I started picking at it, but looking up every time anyone
moves is not conducive to rapid eating at the best of times, and I was
also very nervous.  And even at that, I completely missed her, until a
voice behind my shoulder said, "Sean?"

The voice sounded not unlike the voice I heard on the phone.  I turned.
Sure enough, the woman behind me was wearing what she'd said she'd be
wearing.  "Chris!"  She had already picked up her own food.  "Sit
down!", I invited.

She sat across from me.  "So you did show.  I was wondering if you'd
get cold feet."

I grinned, somewhat dazed that *she*'d shown up.  "I did, some...but
made it here anyway."

We ate in silence.  Well, *she* ate in silence.  *I* picked at my food,
eating a little, but mostly watching her eat, wondering to myself what
one said on such occasions, wondering how I'd managed to land myself in
such a situation - this just wasn't the sort of thing that happened to
me!  When she was about half done, she looked up abruptly enough to
meet my eyes for a moment.  I reddened and dropped my gaze to my food
and took another nibble.

She put down her fork.  "Sean?"

I looked up and found I still couldn't meet her gaze, dropped my eyes,
realized I was looking directly at her, um, chest, reddened more, and
found myself looking frantically about for somewhere to look, all the
more so because she dressed in a relatively tight-fitting tank-top, and
while she wasn't anything to post on alt.sex.fetish.breast, she hadn't
been shortchanged by nature either.  In retrospect, now, I laugh at
this, but there wasn't anything funny about it at the time.  I took
another bite.

She said, gently, "Sean...it's okay to look at me."

I blushed even more.  I could feel my face burning.  But I did manage
to raise my eyes enough to look at her face for a few seconds.  She was
smiling, a small warm smile, somehow reassuring.

She offered, "I know how you feel.  Eight years ago, I was there."

I still couldn't say anything.  She reached over and patted my hand.
"Eat up.  We need somewhere to talk, and" - she glanced around - "while
I suppose we could talk here, I suspect you'd be more comfortable
somewhere less crowded."

I glanced around too.  It wasn't really very crowded; there was nobody
closer than two tables to us, and that one table seemed more interested
in their own conversation than in us.  But I agreed; I did not want to
be discussing what I really wanted to discuss with her when anyone
could _possibly_ overhear.  So I made myself eat, taking only a few
minutes to finish the rest of my food.  We dumped our trays and she
took the lead, heading out.  As she reached the street and turned, I
suspected I knew where she was heading, a small park a block or so
away.  It seemed like a good choice to me.

Turned out I was right.  I watched her walking, lagging back a pace or
so (to get a better view, though I didn't admit that to myself at the
time).  Her clothing was certainly not spray-on tight, but equally
certainly was chosen to show off rather than hide her body's shape - a
tank-top, as I said, and while I don't recall specifically what else
she was wearing, I do recall that it showed off the way her hips moved
as she walked.  I could feel myself beginning to get an erection in
response, and was glad when she reached a bench in the park and sat
down.  I sat down too, trying to be close enough to seem not
standoffish yet far enough to not seem pushy and forward.

She sighed softly.  "You're having trouble dealing with all this
newness, aren't you."  I nodded, mute.

"As I said, I've been there.  I was like you, repressed and unhappy,
until someone coaxed me out of it.  It's scary, daring to do something
new, but it's worth the effort, it really is."

I was still staring at the ground in front of us.

"I like you.  Someday, I'd like to lay you -"

If I wasn't feeling numb, emotionally shell-shocked, before, that sure
did it.  _She_ liked _me_ enough to want me, um, *that* way?  But,
but...such things just didn't *happen* to me!

She didn't seem to notice anything, continuing.  I must have missed a
few words.  "- can be friends in any case."  She paused.  I was still
staring at the ground.  "Sean?  What sorts of things do you do with
your friends?"

Friends?  Oh, yeah, I have some of those.  Do?  With?  With friends.
Right.  "I...we...uh..."  Uh, what _do_ we do?  I couldn't find words.
I could barely even *think* words.

She seemed content to wait.  Eventually my brain started working again,
after a fashion.  "Eat together.  Talk."  Surely that wasn't all.  Oh
yeah.  "Play games."

She waited a few moments, then apparently decided I'd run out of things
to say - which I had, rather.  While I felt that list was incomplete, I
was unable to think of anything to add to it; I was still in some
degree of emotional shock.  She inquired, "Games?  Like what?"

"Anything.  Chess.  Go.  D&D."  Pause.  "Sega."  Pause.  "Boggle."
Pause.  "Pinochle."

Longer pause.  She made an indistinct noise and frowned thoughtfully.

"Sean?  You seem awfully nervous."

I nodded silently, partly glad that she had stopped asking me to talk
and partly embarrassed that she could read me so well.  (In retrospect,
she would have had to have been pretty blind to *not* notice how tense
I was, but at the time I felt more as though she had just discovered a
shameful secret.)

She stood up and started to walk slowly.  Just as I was wondering if
she was going to just walk away, she turned and walked back, stopping
in front of me.  She silently held out a hand, inviting me to stand up
too.  When I did, she continued holding my hand loosely and started
once again to walk slowly.  She began to speak.  "Sean, you *know* I'm
the person you've told so much of yourself to on Nargo, and you *know*
the world isn't going to fall apart."  She chuckled.  "It just feels
like it."

She understands, I thought.  "Yeah.", I managed.  Then I remembered
what she said earlier.  "What did you mean, back there" - I nodded back
towards where we'd eaten - "when you said eight years ago you were
where I am?"

"Just that.  Back then, eight years and, um," - she held up her other
hand, counting briefly on her fingers - "about three months ago, I was
in more or less your situation, as you've described to me: no sexual
experience and a sufficiently repressed sexuality that I did not even
consider a change in that respect something to hope for."  She smiled,
almost reminiscently, and paused.  Just as I was beginning to form a
question her face darkened and she said, "I don't want to talk about
that; while my, um, awakening I guess you could call it...while my very
first experiences were good, there's some other stuff there I don't
discuss."  She paused again, briefly, then shook her head slightly and
went on, "Anyway, I just meant that I probably do have some clue how
you feel now.  Eight years is a long time, but not so long I've
forgotten."

She smiled suddenly.  "But I, at least, didn't come here to not talk
about things I don't want to talk about."

She paused, for about half a block.  Long enough, in fact, that I
finally said, "So why *did* you meet me?"

She replied slowly and thoughtfully.  "Because I recognized some of my
past in you.  I like you and want to help you find a more pleasant
awakening than the one I went through.  Everdale has done that for
hundreds of other people I've seen go through it; I think it can for
you too."

A few silent paces later she continued.  "It certainly has helped me
overcome the scars left by my own `awakening', by the past I do not
talk about.  I've found two wonderful lovers and maybe a dozen friends
there; it's given me a job I'm good at and enjoy."  I must have
exhibited surprise, for she said, "Yes, my job is related to the
school.  Jobs, actually, since I'm working there in two capacities.
One is something like a university TA; I assist instructors.  The other
is the one I think I mentioned to you - there's a sex shop attached to
the school, and I model for them."

I nodded.  "You said something about modeling, yes..."

She grinned.  "You're probably dying to ask what that means.  I'll
leave it up to your imagination."  She chuckled.  "For now."  Her grin
seemed to say, but you'll find out...eventually.

She was right, I did want to ask what that meant.  (The grin was also
right; I did find out.  But everything in its place.)  So I started to
ask something else, not quite sure what I was going to ask, "Uh, this
school..."  She made a small sound, encouraging me to continue.  "So
what do they teach?  I mean, what is there to teach?  Surely there
isn't anyone in their market who doesn't already know, um..."

She supplied the words I couldn't seem to find.  "The mechanics of
sex?"

I nodded.  "Yeah.  Even I know "the facts", the stuff you can find in
physiology texts and encyclopedia articles."  I realized I was
beginning to babble and shut up; then I also suddenly remembered we
were in public and glanced nervously around.  Nobody was within
earshot, and indeed I further realized that this had been true ever
since leaving the park, despite our always having been clearly "in
public".  For all she seemed to be wandering aimlessly, Chris had
clearly been careful where she led us.

She didn't seem to notice; instead, she replied to what I'd said.
"There's more to sex, far more, than just the mechanics.  They aren't
there particularly to teach the mechanics, though you'd be surprised -
there are always a few of the students who really *do* need to be
taught them.  They're there to help people discover themselves, to
provide reassurance, support, perhaps a little guidance, a congenial
environment...."  She flashed me a grin.  "And make a few bucks in the
process, which since that's how I pay my bills I think highly of."

We walked on in silence for a little.  Another half a block further on,
Chris started to speak, reflectively, musingly.  "I remember when I was
considering working for them.  Eric was telling me, really, Judy, you
should take the TAship, look at how much you helped *our* class...he
and I were classmates, back when I first took courses with them.
*Really* good friend, pretty good in bed too...I wish he hadn't had to
move away; I don't see him nearly often enough any more."

I blinked.  ""Judy"?"

"Yeah?"

She'd obviously misunderstood me.  "You called yourself Judy."

"Oh!  Right, you don't know that name.  My *proper* name, the one the
banks and governments know me by, is Judy, Judy Vissen.  I took the
Chris name as a stage-name when I started modeling, and tacked on my
middle initial for my character name on Nargo, since Chris was already
taken."

I smiled.  "Would you rather I call you Judy?"

She waved a hand vaguely.  "Oh, call me whatever you like, Judy, Chris,
whatever you're most comfortable with.  I've used each enough to be
comfortable with it."  She grinned.  "Would you rather I call you
jimdog instead of Sean?"

I grinned back.  "Nah.  Thanks, though."

Chapter 3: Tentative Explorations

We may have spoken more, but I don't recall it.  The next clear memory
I have is as I was walking home, still in a bit of a mental daze from
the conversation.  I happened to pass a sex shop - the same one that
I'd been tempted to walk into, what, was it really only two days ago?
I actually stopped on the sidewalk for a couple of seconds, staring at
the door, parts of me arguing with other parts of me.  Eventually the
parts that were saying "go on" won out, and I continued.

I can't recall much of the next couple of days.  Whether this is
because I was still stunned or because they weren't very memorable, I
can't say.  But I do recall noticing that Chris seemed like just the
same person as before online.

In any case, that conversation must have been on a Monday, because I
remember our D&D group met that evening, and I was a complete write-off
when it came to roleplaying my character.  The next couple of days were
relatively unremarkable, but that Thursday, when the weekly shipment
arrived at the comics shop, I recall as I was unpacking it, one cover
caught my eye.  I can't recall the title, but it was one of the sex
titles, the sort marked "Adults Only" on the cover.  I'd always paid
them as little attention as possible, before, but this one caught my
eye.  The picture was about as explicit as I'd seen comic-book covers
get; it showed a man lying on his back on the grass in an idyllic lawn
setting, a woman kneeling, straddling his hips, her shins flat on the
grass.  Her hair was carefully drawn in front of her breasts, and the
view was from the side, so no "naughty bits" were showing, despite not
a stitch of clothing being visible.  I must have stared at that issue
for a good thirty seconds before continuing unpacking.  I was glad
nobody was around, for it had given me an erection which I felt sure
would have been obvious to anyone.  This was late in my day, and as I
returned home I passed that same sex shop.  With those two prods, my
mind was on sex, and once I got home I lost no time giving myself an
orgasm.

As I sat down at the computer I happened to notice the piece of paper
with the school's name and phone number on it.  Coupled with my state
of mind, this got me thinking about Chris's description of their
courses, and I found myself wondering what they would actually be like
to attend, where the school was...my mind wandered off into a reverie
of speculation.  ChrisL was online, and I found myself giving him (no,
her! her!) an almost stream-of-consciousness ramble on the subject.
She listened quietly, apparently realizing I needed someone to talk to
more than anything else.  I remember only one thing she said that
evening, that being that if I wanted to know what the school was like,
there was one obvious way, clearly referring to going to check it out
myself.  She gave the address, which I dutifully wrote down.  (I don't
know what's become of that piece of paper; when starting to write this
recounting, I looked for it but couldn't find it.  I know I carried it
on me for months, since I specifically recall transferring it from
pocket to pocket each time I changed pants, even after I knew perfectly
well where the school was.)

Next day, coming back from work, I passed that sex shop again.  I
dithered on the sidewalk for what must have been a full five seconds,
finally walking on - but before I got home, I changed my mind and
determined to go visit one.  I was at the time still embarrassed enough
by such a thing that I made a point of going to a shop I happened to
know of that was on the fringes of the areas of town I frequented, to
reduce the chance that anyone would recognize me - or at least that was
the reasoning I gave myself.

As I approached the shop, I felt more and more obvious, as if anyone
even glancing my way would know instantly that I were the sort of
degenerate who frequents sex shops.  (Yes, I know, I know - but such
was my feeling at the time.  I recall it well.)  It took a lot of
determination to actually open the door and walk in; somewhat to my
surprise, it looked not especially different from any shop in that part
of town, except of course that the merchandise was sex-related,
everything from videos to dildos to magazines.  And what an amazing
pile of magazines - one whole wall of the shop was nothing but rack
after rack of magazines.  There was even a stand of comics, which I
immediately looked over in more detail (professional interest, and all
that, y'know!) - and promptly discovered that when it came to
explicitly sexual comic covers, I "ain't seen nothin' yet"!  I found
myself somewhat tempted, but still couldn't quite work up the nerve to
actually buy anything.  I must have spent fifteen minutes browsing
before I allowed myself to escape, gradually cooling down as I walked
thoughtfully homewards.  As I got home, I found myself pondering why I
felt so unwilling to buy any of the shop's wares.  I connected to Nargo
almost reflexively, and ChrisL was on.  I find I still have the log of
that session.

jimdog says, "hey, all"
daviS says, "yo jimbo"
ChrisL says, "Hiya, jimdog.  'Tsup?"
jimdog says, "just checking in, see who's on, what's up..."
daviS says, "Namuch here, pretty dead."
You go home.
[private to ChrisL] you busy?
[private from ChrisL] No, not really...why?
[private to ChrisL] drop by my place?
[private from ChrisL] Okay, hang on a few moments....
ChrisL has arrived.
ChrisL chuckles.  "I take it "just checking in" is the version for
    public consumption, since you wanted me to drop by?"
jimdog says, "yeah ,just got back from work"
ChrisL says, "...and? =)"
jimdog says, "recall that issue i mentioned yesterday?"
[Orcdraft has disconnected.]
ChrisL grins, "Certainly.  I went out and got myself a copy, even."
jimdog says, "was thinking about it on the way home, ended up sotpping
    by garden apple"

(That was the name of the shop I visited, The Garden Apple.  I assumed
she'd know the name.)

ChrisL says, "Garden Apple?  The place on Maple?"
jimdog says, "corner greenhill, yeah"
ChrisL grins.  "Bet that was an experience - kinda out of your way,
    though, wasn't it?  Whatcha think?"
jimdog says, "yeah, interseting. really tense, had to kidna force
    myself toe ven go in the door"
ChrisL says, "But you made it in, and out again intact..."
[GreenBale has connected.]
jimdog says, "you shoulda seen me,youdve laughed.  i was blushing soooo
    red...."
jimdog says, "i mean, i knew that sorta stuff existed, but seeing
    it there right ou tin the open..."
ChrisL smiles gently.  "Didn't you say you'd already bought yourself a
    skin mag?"
jimdog says, "that was one copy of playboy, ain't the same as seeing
    rack-yard after rakc-yard of that stuff.  at all."
ChrisL inquires, ""That stuff"?"
jimdog says, "some of those mags, sheesh, the *cover* was worse than
    *anything* in that playboy i told you about.  like, there was one
    cover showing a woman in a shiny black suit, holes int he suit at
    crotch and chest, and as if that weren't enough, tied up"
ChrisL just smiles.
jimdog says, "and the vibrators, i could barely even look at the
    display case of vibrators...and a bunch of things i dont even want
    to know what they're for"
ChrisL says, "I'm sure everything there was there for a reason..."
jimdog says, "i'm sure. just shocking somehow to see it all right out
    there in the open."
ChrisL grins.  "So, didja buy anything?"
jimdog hehs. you kidding? the way i felt? i'dve just about died at the
    thought of taking anything up to the counter
ChrisL nods slowly.  "I see what you mean."
ChrisL grins suddenly.  "But aside from that - if the clerk had been a
    robot instead, say - would you have bought anything?"
jimdog ponders that question
jimdog "probably. a couple of the magazines seemed not too outrageously
    overpriced
ChrisL mmmhmms.  "Which ones?  Do you recall?"
jimdog says, "i don't recall exact titles. one was something like
    "girls themselves" and the cover made it seem the contents would be
    women getting themselves off. the other i don't recall the title at
    all ,i thumbed through it and it seemed to be blown-up pictures of
    women's genitals, with an apparent emphasis on variety. didn't seem
    to be a periodical, more a magazine-foramt collection of pictures"

(The first part of the last sentence was a lie; I remembered the title,
_Closeup On Cunt_, but was too embarrassed to quote it to Chris.  There
was also _Closeup On Cock_ next to it, but at the time I couldn't allow
myself to notice any curiosity in that direction.)

ChrisL inquires curiously, "You find those erotic?"
jimdog says, "the first, yes, very. the other, i'm more just ciurous
    about - surely i've told you i've enver seen a woman that, um, up
    close & personal...."
ChrisL nods.  "Yes, I recall."
ChrisL says, "So, you gonna go back there tomorrow and buy 'em? :)"
jimdog pokes you. silly.
ChrisL says, "Well, you walked in and the world didn't cave in around
    you; I assure you it won't cave in if you buy something.  It's not
    as if the clerk will make fun of you; remember, it's not good
    business to discomfit customers - and believe me, they know it!"
jimdog still looks uncertain.

I disconnected shortly thereafter, since I was getting hungry.  I went
out to a pizza joint I frequented, and on the way back stopped at a
video-game arcade and played Robotron for a couple of dollars - one of
the few Robotrons I've been able to find still in service in this city.
(I gotta get a couple of joysticks and write myself a Robotron clone
for play at home....)

Once back at home, I found my thoughts turning to those two magazines
I'd mentioned to Chris.  I picked up the _Playboy_ I'd bought about two
years ago and leafed through it, but my thoughts were elsewhere; I kept
remembering three of the pictures in _Closeup On Cunt_.  After a few
moments I realized I was getting fairly hard and decided "why not?" -
so I stripped and started to masturbate.  It was a long, slow, and
pleasant buildup looking through the _Playboy_ but remembering _Closeup
on Cunt_, ending with an explosive and sudden orgasm when it occurred
to me to wonder what Chris might look like from the sort of angles
those closeups were taken from.

Chapter 4: The School

Saturday was mostly relatively uneventful - or at least it must have
been; I don't recall anything happening.  But that evening as I was
doing my weekly laundry and therefore transferring things from pockets
to pockets, I found the piece of paper on which I'd written the
school's address Chris had given me.  This suddenly crystallized a
determination to go visit the school and see what the place was like.
I left that piece of paper out where I'd notice it when I got up the
next day, and turned in for the night.

I arrived some fifteen minutes early, having been careful to allow
*plenty* of time.  Nobody anything like the person I was looking for
was in sight, so I picked up my food and sat down.  I ate slowly, until
a voice behind my shoulder said, "Sean?"

I turned, and there - there *she* was, standing behind me, gloriously
naked.  She swayed gracefully as she stepped around beside me and sat
down on the table in front of me, pushing my tray off the table behind
her.  She smiled seductively and let herself rest back against the
pillows, one of her legs falling to either side of me.  The rest of the
house lights faded down and the spotlight came on, illuminating her
from mid-thigh to about halfway between her breasts and her chin,
bright white/pink skin floating in darkness.

I leaned forward with the rest of the audience, watching eagerly.  Most
of us had undone our pants enough to have freed our cocks and were
stroking them.  Two seats to my left was a woman, looking out of place
among all the men; she had undone her jeans and had one hand busy
inside them.  I returned my attention to the stage, reluctant though I
was to stop watching the woman next to me.

The woman on the stage moved her hands into the light and ran them up
and down her sides.  She began to writhe slowly.  One hand brushed
lightly over her breast.  The other brushed her belly, gently, then
moved between her legs and began to stroke herself lightly there.  Her
thighs parted, spreading wider and wider as she squatted over me, her
soot-black legs parted over my face, her delicious ebony pussy-lips
spread, showing her gleaming pink interior descending, descending, my
mouth opening to meet it, parted lips nearing parted lips, touching --

-- and I awoke suddenly, already stroking my raging hard-on.  I closed
my eyes again and drifted back into vague fantasy images, now daydreams
instead of real dreams, stroking myself vigorously; it took only about
fifteen seconds more before I came.

I lay for a few minutes, still stroking my now-softening cock, enjoying
the feeling of having just cum, ignoring for the moment the mess I'd
produced.  My cock started to stiffen again and I figured I already
needed a shower (I hadn't made any attempt to restrain the mess), so no
reason not to enjoy myself a little more.  I flipped off the bedclothes
and sat up....

Perhaps an hour later - a most pleasant hour - I came again.  Half an
hour later, after a good long shower, I was ready to head out.

I looked at the piece of paper with the address on it.  It was 1447
Broadhead.  I knew where Broadhead was, and from parallel streets I
knew well, I could estimate roughly where it would be.  Surprisingly
enough, it seemed it was probably placed more or less within the area
of town I frequented most, a roughly triangular area between my place,
the comics shop, and a place I used to live.  I sure didn't remember
anything noteworthy there, though admittedly while I *crossed*
Broadhead often enough, I didn't actually follow it very often.

Ten minutes of walking brought me to the corner of Jefferson and
Broadhead.  I turned left, since on the parallel streets I knew I was
probably at about 1900 or so.  I checked a few numbers and verified I
was headed the correct way.  I crossed Nixon and at the corner of
Lincoln realized I was on the even-numbered side of Broadhead, so I
crossed and continued down Broadhead.  A few buildings further I found
a door labeled "1447, 1449, 1451".  It was a plain door, nestled
between a copy shop and an overpriced clothing boutique, looking like
the entrance to walk-up apartments, but one of the three names on it
was Everdale.  I turned the knob and it opened readily, showing a
flight of stairs, looking more and more like walk-up apartments.  At
the top of the flight of stairs an anonymous-looking hallway led out of
sight to the left and right.  I suddenly remembered a cartoon I'd seen
somewhere, showing someone peering into an empty warehouse saying, "Is
this the `How To Detect Consumer Fraud' course?  Hello?".  The door had
shut behind me, and I found myself resisting an urge to flee, partly
from embarrassement and partly from memory of that cartoon; I sternly
reminded myself that the cartoon was not applicable - it wasn't as if
I'd *paid* anything, after all - and marched up the stairs.

As I neared the top of the stairs and began to see the hallway, I was
impressed; it looked like quite expensive wood flooring.  As I reached
it and looked both ways, it became clear this was not an illusion.  I
could see the hallway dead-ending shortly to the left at a door, while
to the right it had two doors opposite one another and ended at what
looked like the bottom of a staircase.  The doors to the right were far
enough away I couldn't clearly read what was on them, but the door to
the left was square-on, and quite clear.  I still carry that image,
clear in my mind, despite having seen it only twice since then, and
those long ago.  It said "1447" in brass numbers, in a very old-looking
style, tarnished around the edges as if they had been there for years
and years and had only their front surface polished now and then.  The
door looked like stained wood with a frosted window, very nicely done,
with a metal plaque about one foot by two attached by no obvious means.
The plaque was rough-surfaced, looking almost like cast iron, but it
had the name "Everdale" raised above the irregular dark surface and
highly polished.  Painted on the wood below this was the school's logo,
pink and pastel blue in an odd-looking arrangement that has since
become very familiar indeed.  It looked quite expensive and
upper-class.  If I'd had no idea what was behind it, I might have taken
it for anything from an engineering consultancy to a bond-rating
service to an import/export merchant's office.

The door was standing open, maybe a couple of inches.  I realized I'd
frozen in place and shook myself into motion, walking up to it.  I
pushed it open and stepped inside.

There were a few chairs along one wall, with a counter/desk sort of
thing crossing most of the room about halfway down its length.  Behind
the counter was an empty area with a couple of doors leading off
elsewhere, and one office chair.  I saw nobody, nobody at all, and no
"office work in progress" things like papers on the desk behind the
counter; the place looked as though its occupants had just moved in and
not yet allocated personnel to the office or something - rather eerie,
actually, though in retrospect it was probably easier for me to deal
with that than with someone behind the counter asking me some variant
of the ubiquitous "can I help you?" question.  The only sign of
occupancy was a wire rack with a sign reading "Take one!".  It held a
number of little pamphlets.  I took one and flipped briefly through it;
it appeared to be some kind of calendar of courses, with schedules and
course descriptions and such - as I flipped through it, one course
title practically jumped off the page at me, and I felt myself blush a
sudden scarlet: "Genital Shaving (Basic)".  I hurriedly stopped
flipping and curled it closed in one hand, cover to the inside,
glancing at the back cover for any indication what it was.  The back
cover was completely blank, and I remember thinking at the time how odd
that was.  (I later learned it was done consciously, as one of the
school's attempts to put people like the person I was then at as much
ease as possible.  And the person I was was glad for it, too; I felt I
would have died of embarrassment if someone on the way home had seen
what I was carrying and known it for what it was.)

I don't remember much of the walk home.

But the calendar, I don't need to remember; I still have it.

"Everdale", it says - said - on the cover, and "Jul-Dec 1996".

I opened the front cover.  IFC was blank except for a copyright notice.

"Everdale", it said in large print across the top of page 1.  Then,
with the "questions" in boldface, followed by the "answers" in lighter
type, I read the following text.

        What is Everdale?

    Sex is a natural part of human existence.  A very large part, for
    most of us.  Yet it has repeatedly been shown that very few people
    in our society know anything significant about sex, in many cases
    not even what they could have learned through direct experience.

    Everdale is dedicated to changing that.

        How?

    There are three principal fronts Everdale is active on.

    The original, and still largest, is direct education: Everdale is a
    school which gives courses to those interested in taking them.
    These courses range from the very basic, on the level of "this is
    what a woman's genitals look like, this is what a man's genitals
    look like", to relatively advanced, such as our recently-added
    Tantric sex workshop, led by perhaps the best Tantric sex scholar
    and practitioner in the English-speaking world today.

    The second is advocacy.  Everdale is active on several legal
    fronts, from supporting court challenges to the more outmoded of
    existing laws to lobbying for legislative change, working closely
    with organizations such as the ACLU where their aims align with
    ours.  For example, our efforts were instrumental in getting one of
    the most obnoxious "crime against nature" laws in the country
    repealed early last year, and we expect another law to fall to a
    constitutional challenge before the end of next year, in a test
    case centered around an Everdale staffer.

    The third can be termed awareness-raising.  While this is, strictly
    speaking, an education effort, it is a very different kind of
    education from the direct, individual education that our founders
    started with: it teaches not the relatively voluminous knowledge
    our courses attempt to impart, but little more than open and
    acceptant attitudes, and it is aimed at an entire population, not
    just those who seek us out.

        Why?

    Our four founders came from diverse backgrounds, but shared two
    things: a love of and delight in sex, and a frustration and anger
    at how our society represses its members' sex drives, thereby
    crippling their ability to feel the joy sex can bring.  They felt
    themselves called to cure this societal illness, for such they
    perceived it to be.  Unfortunately only three of them are still
    with us (the fourth, sadly, passed on last year), but those three
    remain active to this day, keeping us true to their original vision
    and being an inspiration to all of us who work at Everdale.

    Indeed, it could be said that we are working to make ourselves
    unnecessary: our ideal would be for our consciousness-raising
    efforts to succeed to the point where sex becomes a normal,
    accepted, enjoyed part of life, learned from babyhood the way other
    aspects of our society like money and language are.  And, if that
    were to actually happen, the only function left for us would be
    that of specialty school, for those who wish to delve into those
    aspects of sex that are sufficiently esoteric to not be taught to
    or learned by the general population.

        What does this mean for me?

    That depends on what you are looking for.  We can always use more
    volunteers for our legal and awareness-raising efforts; if you are
    interested in helping us, we are ready to find ways you can assist.
    Most people who come to us, though, do so because they are
    interested in taking our courses.

        So what courses do you offer?

    Turn the page.

I turned the page.

The next two pages were a timetable: course names, and for each, a page
number for full details and a brief summary of the time commitment it
involved, and a "cost" column.  It was fairly brief, probably somewhere
between 20 and 30 courses in all.  Upon deciphering the time columns
with the help of the notes at the bottom of the page, I found that most
of them involved one classroom session and one lab session per week,
one hour of classroom and two "or more" (whatever *that* meant) of lab.
(Lab?  I briefly wondered what labs for these courses were like.)  I
also skimmed the codes in the "cost" column and found a legend for them
at the bottom of the page; most courses seemed to cost about $150 per
(roughly five-month) session.

I turned the page.

Pages 4 and 5 were course descriptions.  Page 4 was headed
"Introduction to Sex"; page 5 was headed "Survey of Common Practices".
I started reading page 4.  The first few lines repeated the time
information, named the instructors, and similar administrative things.
Then followed a bulleted listing of what the course covered:

    Classroom
    o What sex is and isn't
    o The male genitals: appearance, functioning, cautions
    o The female genitals: appearance, functioning, cautions
(I felt myself flush suddenly, remembering _Closeup on Cunt_.)
    o Common myths and misconceptions
    o Heterosexuality, homosexuality, bisexuality
    o Biological functions of sex
    o Social functions of sex
    o Emotional functions of sex
    o Spiritual functions of sex
    o Legal aspects
    o Moral/ethical/religious aspects

    Lab
    o Familiarization and accustomization
    o Manual sex - masturbation, mutual masturbation
(I felt myself blush even more and was *very* glad I was alone.)
    o Simple intercourse
    o Oral sex
    o Anal sex
    o Non-genital sex

I sat there staring at that page for what must have been several
minutes.  Finally I looked at page 5, at the "Survey of Common
Practices" course.

    Classroom
    o Genital/genital
        o Cautions/recommendations
        o Variations
    o Manual/genital
        o Cautions/recommendations
        o Variations
    o Oral/genital
        o Cautions/recommendations
        o Variations
    o Other genital
    o Non-genital

    Lab
    o Demonstrations
    o Class participation/experimentation

I turned the page.

Page 6 was headed "Masturbation (I)".  Page 7, "Masturbation (II)".  I
flipped a few more pages and stopped, lost in thought.  Then I suddenly
realized I was fairly hard and had been squeezing my cock rhythmically
between my thighs for the past several minutes (it had escaped my
undershorts through one leg opening) - though which started first I
couldn't say.  I took off my clothes and started stroking myself.
After a few moments I happened to look back at the pamphlet.  It had
fallen open to the middle, and the course on the right-hand page was
the "Genital Shaving (Basic)" I'd noticed when thumbing through it at
the school.  Seeing that almost made me cum right then, and indeed I
did no more than a minute or two later.

Chapter 5: The *Real* School

The pamphlet sat on that table for about a week afterwards.  (Eight
days, to be exact; it was not the next day but a week after that that I
removed it, in preparation for the D&D crowd, which it was my turn to
host that evening.  But I'm getting ahead of my story.)  I'm not
entirely sure how the next few days happened.  But on Wednesday, I had
a long conversation - probably most of about half a day - online with
Chris.  Most of it I don't remember, and I haven't been able to find
the log of that session.  But late in it, she talked me into - well, I
suppose I actually talked myself into - phoning them.  At the click as
someone picked up the phone, I felt a sudden hope it was an answering
machine.  But no, someone answered.

"Everdale".

"Um, hello", I said brilliantly.  "I'm calling to inquire about taking
one of your courses."

"Have you taken any of our courses before, sir?"

"No."

"We ask that all new students come in for an initial individual
interview.  There is no cost or commitment involved for you.  When
would be convenient for you?"

I wasn't expecting that.  My "go along with it" tendency kicked in,
though, as it usually did when something of the sort happened.  It was
moderately late Wednesday, but maybe not too late.  "I suppose today
isn't possible?"

"Unfortunately not, sir; we have no further appointments available
today.  But I can schedule you for three-thirty tomorrow."

"Tomorrow I can't, unless it's after six."  I usually got off work at
about five on Thursdays, but sometimes ran over.  I also wanted a bit
of time in between.

"Let me see..."  I heard the rattle of a keyboard.  "How about seven
o'clock?"

"That'd be fine."

"And what name would you like me to put down for you, sir?"

"Sean Dusselin.  D-u-s-s-e-l-i-n."

"What address do you have for us?"

"The one on Broadhead, just a moment..."  I started to look for the
paper.

"1447 Broadhead", the voice on the phone supplied.  "We hold these
interviews at a different location, 124 Highland."

"124...Highland...", I muttered, scribbling the address down.
"Highland...Remind me where that is?"  I could *almost* remember.

"It runs from Ninth, north to the park, then..."

"Right!"  I interrupted, remembering.  The voice didn't seem to mind
being interrupted.  "Got it.  I remember now.  Okay, 124 Highland,
seven tomorrow evening."

"That's right."

"I'll be there."

"Very good, sir.  Thank you for calling Everdale."

"G'bye."

I hung up and sat there staring at the phone for a few minutes.  Then I
snapped out of it and returned to my Nargo session.  Chris was still
online, and I gave her a summary of the phone call.  She made approving
noises, and the conversation wandered off onto other topics.

Next morning as I was preparing to leave for work, I found myself
wondering what I'd gotten myself into.  I toyed with the idea of
standing them up, but never really considered it seriously.  I can't
recall much of note about work that day, except that I was constantly
checking the time.  Finally, though, five o'clock did roll around, and
I promptly headed back home; I had just about two hours, which was time
enough to get home, eat something, and get back to the Highland
address.

And that's just what I did: went home, grabbed a bite to eat, and
headed off to Highland.  As I followed Nixon south from Orchard, I
chuckled to myself, recognizing it as part of the path Chris and I had
taken when we met, what was it, a week ago? no, surely longer than
that.  (Ten days, actually - I worked it out later.)  Highland west of
Nixon was a small dead-end fragment of street, populated by townhouses.
It looked residential to me, but 124 proved to be a half-floor below
ground level, an anonymous-looking door bearing nothing but the number
124 and the name Everdale.  I tried the door, trying to feel as though
I belonged there; it opened readily, and I entered.

The door closed quietly behind me and I looked around.  The place
really looked like an apartment, except for a couple of signs - all I
could see was a small piece of corridor with three (doorless) openings
on the right and a turn to the right at the far end.  Next to me, just
inside the door, was a coat-rack with a boot tray on the floor under
it, despite the weather calling for neither coats nor boots.  I
ventured far enough down the corridor to read a sign over the first
opening, reading "RECEPTION".  I tentatively ventured in and found a
room with some six or eight chairs around three walls and a desk at the
far end.  Seated behind the desk was someone who looked up as I
entered.  I looked at her? him? and felt a peculiar confusion because I
couldn't tell whether it was a man or woman behind the desk.  I
couldn't see any bust, but the person's shirt was shapeless enough that
that didn't prove anything.  Then he? she? spoke, and I *still*
couldn't tell; it could have been a light man's voice or a deep
woman's.  "Hello.", she? he? said, and glanced at a clock I hadn't
noticed on one wall, then at a sheet on the desk.  "Sean Dusselin?"

I blinked, but was not so confused as to be unable to reply.  "That's
me.  Seven o'clock."  I had followed the glance at the clock.  It was
pretty close to correct - it showed eight minutes till.

"If you would like to start a little early, your interviewer is already
free."

"That'd be fine with me."

He? she? nodded towards the door.  "To your right, past the stairwell,
through the next door."

"Thank you."  I nodded and turned back to the hallway.

I turned as directed, past a doorway-sized opening with no door (which
opened onto a stairwell, as the receptionist had implied).  The next
opening, which I had initially thought had no door in it, proved to
have a door which opened inward in such a way that it was not visible
from the entryway.  As I reached it and looked in, I realized I still
didn't know the receptionist's sex, and wondered if the interviewer
would be as disorentingly ambiguous.

He wasn't.  My interviewer was clearly male, with a small beard that
must have taken careful trimming to keep in such neat order, but
nothing else notable I can remember.  (I eventually met most of the
school's staff, but nevertheless have never been quite certain which
person he was; my memory of him is vague enough to match any of three
of them.  I later learned that their interviewers took some pains to be
as anonymous as possible, because that also turned out to be as
nonthreatening as possible, and many of the interviewees needed
reassuring.)

He looked up as I stopped in the doorway.  "Mr. Dusselin?"

He mispronounced it horribly, but that's common and I've long since
gotten used to it.  "That's me."  I stepped in and looked around.  The
room was small, with a desk against one wall, a swivel chair in front
of it, and a couch along the wall with the door, a couch big enough for
three.  My interviewer was in the chair at the desk, swiveled towards
the door.

He picked up a pad of paper, of which I noticed the top sheet was
blank.  I sat on the couch, at the end near the door.  He leaned over
and pushed the door shut, then scribbled on the pad for a few seconds.
I remained silent, not sure what to say.

"You're probably wondering why this interview."  I nodded silently.
"We always interview new students, to make sure they're in an
appropriate course."  He paused for a brief moment.  "Also, to try to
cut down on people for whom we're really not appropriate.  We get
people, now and then, who really aren't looking for anything we
provide, maybe five to ten percent."  He paused, a little longer this
time.  "Also, our lawyers insist.  I don't really understand why, but
I'm not a lawyer."

I remained silent.

He smiled.  "So.  What brings you to us?"

I grinned.  "How detailed an answer do you want?"

He made a vague inviting gesture.  "As detailed as you like."  He
leaned over and looked at something on the desk, adding as he turned
back, "I have nothing scheduled today after this, so take as much time
as you like."

"The briefest answer is probably `you were recommended by a friend'."
He noted something very brief on the pad.  "The longer answer is, ah, a
bit more complicated.  How familiar are you with computer networks?"

"Some.  I use Internet sometimes, and I know how to use e-mail."

Oh dear, thought I, 'tis true that "a little learning is a dangerous
thing".  Someone who uses `Internet' as a noun without `the'...and who
thinks of the Internet as a distinct thing separate from e-mail...how
can I describe Nargo in a way he'll understand?  "Hmm.  Have you ever
heard of muds?"

"No, at least not as anything computer-related."

Hmm.  "How about chat rooms?"

"I've tried a few, but they never really grabbed me."

"Well, then..."  I launched into an explanation, comparing Nargo to a
system of multiple chat rooms.  "And I met someone using the name
`ChrisL', and after a while" - I was still too shy/embarrassed to
explain what had opened sex up as a topic of conversation - "our
conversation turned to sex.  My sex life is, and has always been, more
or less nonexistent, and ChrisL recommended your school."

"Do you know why?"

"Past good experiences with it, that's what I gathered from our
conversation."

He scribbled something more on the pad, muttering something about
"former student".  "That answers something I was going to ask later,
but what I actually meant was, why did this ChrisL person think it
would be good for you to come to us?"

"I'm less sure of that.  I think she gathered that I'm unhappy about my
sex life, or lack thereof, and thought your school could help."

He frowned slightly.  "We are not a place to buy sex.  I'd've exp--"

I interrupted.  "No no, that's not what I mean."  I continued more
slowly, choosing my words carefully.  "Not that your school would do
anything directly about my lack of a sex life, but more that it could
help me be more comfortable with my sexuality.  I think my sexuality is
pretty undeveloped; I think she thought you could help with that, and
the rest would follow on its own, once I stop refusing to allow
sexuality into my life."

His frown had faded.  "Okay, I see.  Well, depending on the underlying
problem, we may be able to help.  We're not really therapists, though
we do have contacts in the sex-therapy community...we can likely help,
though, with ignorance and nervousness and embarrassment and
unfamiliarity."

I smiled.  "And I think those are a big part of my problem.  I don't
expect you to magically fix everything."  I was by this point blushing
furiously, talking about my sex life - or lack thereof - with a
complete stranger, and my stomach was tying itself into knots.  I was
determined to push past the anxiety, though, so I had been making
myself continue.  My interviewer gave no sign of noticing any of that,
though; I later learned they were trained not only to notice certain
things but to *never* let on that they noticed some of them.

He scribbled on the pad a little more.  "Do you know what classes you
want to take?  Have you seen our calendar?"

"I've got a copy of your calendar" - I blushed even redder, remembering
some of what I'd seen in it - "but I'm not at all sure what to take.
I'd imagine I should start at the beginning, but beyond about the first
couple of courses I'm unclear what to take."

"That's about what I was going to recommend."  He scribbled something
more on the pad and put it down on the desk, saying, "I believe we'll
accept you into the school."  He turned back to me, sitting up
straight.  "You'd be surprised how many people we get who want to take
one of the really advanced classes, but aren't nearly ready to."  He
paused.  "I've been asking lots of questions.  Do you have any
questions you'd like to ask about us?"

I chuckled.  That made sense, but I hadn't anticipated it and didn't
have anything ready to ask.  "I can't think of anything offhand...no,
wait, I do have one question."  He looked interested.  "Is your
receptionist" - I tilted my head towards the room with the receptionist
in it - "a man or a woman?"

He chuckled.  "A woman, today.  There are two women and one man who
staff that desk, at various times, chosen largely because they are - at
least when they try - androgynous enough for a visitor to see them as
either sex.  Congratulations, by the way; only about a fifth of the
people who come through here notice how gender-ambiguous our
receptionists are."  He paused.  "No other questions?"

I blinked.  "Not at the moment, no."

"Then the next step for you is to decide which class and section to
take, and register."  He opened a drawer in the desk and took out a
copy of the calendar.  He opened it to the timetable summary on pages 2
and 3 and handed it to me, a fingertip pointing to the first two lines,
the "Introduction to Sex" and "Survey of Common Practices" courses.
"Depending on how much of your week you want to invest in these
courses, I'd suggest taking either just the intro course or both of
these first two, at first.  After that, I'd expect you to have a better
idea which other courses you want to take; most students find that
works well for them."

I took the calendar and nodded.  I looked over to the scheduling
columns; each of those two courses had an evening section and a day
section, each with one class and one lab per week.  "Let's see...", I
mused, looking for the day-of-week info and not finding it, until I
found a note at the bottom of the page, referring me to another page
for a full date-and-time list.  I flipped to it and located the
relevant lines.  "I think I should take just the intro course, section
2."  That section had class Wednesday evening and labs late Saturday
afternoons.

He reached into the desk drawer again and produced a simple one-page
form, on which he ticked a bunch of boxes, filled in a few blanks, and
signed at the bottom.  He handed it to me and said, "Think about it.
Once you're sure you want to register, come back here and go clear down
past this room to the end of the hallway; one of the doors is labeled
"Registrar".  There should be someone there seven days a week, from
noon to nine."

I glanced at my watch.  It was only about half past.  I stood up.  "I'm
sure enough; I'd like to do this now."

"You sure?  Last thing we want is a student who ends up feeling rushed
into it."

I laughed briefly.  "You don't know how long I've been thinking this
over.  No, I'd rather do it now."

He smiled and stood, reaching past me to pull the door open, then
offering his hand.  "Welcome to Everdale, Mr. Dusselin.  I hope you
enjoy your time with us."

I shook his hand.  "Thank you."  I turned and left, turning to the
right, away from the entryway, looking for the "Registrar" door.

I found it and entered.  The man in there glanced over the form, typed
briefly on a desktop computer, and looked up.  "What mailing address
would you like us to use for you?"

"7297 Oaks, #7."

He typed more.  "Do you wish to give us a telephone number?"

"282-2493."

He typed a little more, then a printer produced some pages which he
handed to me, saying, "Here you are, sir".  I took it and looked at it.
It was three pages.  The first was a nicely formatted printout, showing
course, time of day/week, and location.  The second was several
paragraphs of print, the first headed `Payment details' - I suddenly
realized I hadn't even thought about that, except for noticing the cost
figures when I was first looking at the calendar - and, two paragraphs
later, a heading `Legal notices'.  I briefly considered reading it
there, but then realized that I couldn't pay on the spot anyway, so I
left, to read it all later.

Chapter 6: Anticipation

The third page, once I looked at it, turned out to be a more detailed
description of the course, including locations and times, a relatively
long description of what the course was and wasn't intended to be, and
recommendations labeled `Suggestions for new students'.

I realized I didn't know when the classes began.  Mentally kicking
myself for not checking into such a basic thing, I went looking.  The
customized printout included first and last class dates, and a schedule
indicating what happened each week; I also found a general description
of their session schedule in the back of the calendar.  Classes began
the week of July 22 and ended the week of December 9 - in particular,
my first class was to be July 24.

July 24.  And it was only June 27.  Well, I told myself, it was
probably better than what would have happened if I'd procrastinated for
another month and a half and had to wait until the next session,
beginning in January.

I must have read that material through half a dozen times in the next
couple of days.  By the time Monday rolled around and I got it all put
away in preparation for the D&D group's arrival, I felt I had it
memorized, though of course I probably didn't.

While I wasn't quite the write-off I had been the past two weeks when
it came to roleplaying, I certainly wasn't in top form; my mind kept
wandering back to the interview and the sheets I brought away with me,
wondering what the class would be like.  This must have been apparent
to the others, because during the break we usually took, Carlos
unobtrusively got me alone and asked if anything was wrong, saying he'd
noticed how I'd seemed concerned with something for the past few weeks.
I rather shied away from telling him what was really affecting me,
instead just saying that yes, I'd been preoccupied, but it wasn't
anything serious.  He seemed unconvinced, but didn't press the matter.

Chris, of course, I told at the first opportunity.  We talked about it
often over the next few weeks.  She refused to tell me much about
Everdale, saying that she wanted me to get unbiased perceptions of the
school.

She and I met in person twice, I think, during those weeks; we wandered
through parks and had lunch together, nothing noteworthy.  In
retrospect, I think she was trying - mostly successfully - to get me
used to the idea that she was a real person and could be talked with in
person as well as online.  There would have been a third such meeting
in person, but she seemed reluctant and secretive, as though there were
a reason for not meeting me but that I would have to find out for
myself what it was.

And find out I did, when a parcel arrived unexpectedly in the mail.
Upon opening it, it proved to be from Chris, and had another layer of
wrapping, marked "please phone me before opening".  It was about the
size of a large but thin book.  So I called Chris.

"Chris?  It's Sean."

"Sean!  Hi!  How are you this fine morning?"  It was still morning, but
only by about fifteen minutes.

"Not bad, not bad...yourself?"

"Pretty good, actually.  To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"

"Well, I got this parcel in the mail..."  I let a slightly teasing tone
creep into my voice.

"Oh, it arrived - good!  And have you opened it yet?"

"No, well, yes, um."  I started over.  "I opened it and found another
layer of wrapping, and a note requesting I call you."

"Ah, so, this is the call?"

"Well, yes."

"Well, I really just wanted to have you on the phone when you saw what
it was.  Go ahead and open it."

So I carefully undid the wrapping.  When I saw what it was, I found
myself at a loss for words - it was a pair of hardbound books, copies
of _Closeup on Cunt_ and _Closeup on Cock_.  I must have made some
small noise, because Chris spoke.

"Like them?"

I was still not very coherent.  "I...um..."

"That *is* what you were thumbing through at Garden Apple, isn't it?"

I was still standing there staring dumbly at the covers.  "Yeah...yeah.
How'd you know?"

"I went by there next day, and that was about the only thing there
anything like what you described.  I poked around a little and managed
to scare up copies in better binding.".  I could hear a grin in her
voice as she added, "I get employee discounts, which helps.".

I was in enough shock to be tactless; I asked what was really on my
mind.  "Why?"

She seemed to understand what I was really asking.  "Why'd I send them
to you?  Because I like you and I wanted to give you a present.  Why
them as the present?"  She paused.  "I don't know.  Seemed
appropriate."

"I didn't even know they existed in hardcover."

She didn't say anything.  I opened the cover of _Closeup on Cunt_ and
paged through the first few pages.  Then I remembered my manners.
"Thank you, Chris.  This's really nice of you."

Her voice seemed to smile.  "You're most welcome, dear."

I remained silent, paging slowly through the book.  After a space of
silence, she said, "I'll leave you to them, then.  Take care, Sean."

"Take care."  I hung up and continued turning pages.

Several pages later, I remembered what she'd said, "...dear".  I
remembered something else she'd said, once, "Someday, I'd like to lay
you".  I found myself wondering if this were part of a seduction
attempt on her part, and if so what I thought of it.

Then as I turned a page I saw a picture that caught my attention even
among the pictures in that book: the woman was lying on some cloth
surface - presumably a bed - and had her thighs spread almost straight
out to the sides.  A hand - presumably hers - had two fingertips buried
between the lips at the top of her pussy.  I shivered as my cock jumped
in my pants, stiffening to the point of discomfort at being confined.
At the same time, I noticed a piece of paper with a handwritten note:

	Enjoy, love.
	Try not to get the
	pages too sticky.

		xoxo, Chris :-)

Yes, she'd added a hand-written text-style sideways smiley.  I remember
wondering, how'd she know that picture would make me horny?  But she'd
been right; I was horny enough that not even the note broke my arousal.
I decided to indulge, starting to take off my pants....

Over the next week or so, I must have stroked myself to half a dozen
lovely orgasms, leafing through that book.  (_Closeup on Cock_ I left
closed on the table - I think I opened it once.)  Though we spoke
almost daily online, she never once referred to her present, probably
knowing I was still somewhat uncomfortable around the subject.

As Wednesday approached, I found myself getting irrationally nervous
I'd forget something.  I kept everything I'd need - the check to drop
off at the office, the directions to the classroom, the sheet with my
student number on it, all of it - in a neat pile where I could pick it
up easily on my way out.

Chapter 7: Class

Wednesday evening finally did roll around.  I returned to the anonymous
building on Highland, not entirely without trepidation but unwilling to
let that trepidation deter me - especially since there was also a
healthy dollop of curiosity opposing it, both curiosity about the
subject matter and meta-curiosity about the course itself.

Turned out I didn't need the instructions; the place wasn't large
enough to get very lost in, and the room was as easy to find as the
instructions made it sound.  I froze for a moment at the head of the
stairs, realizing I was about to walk into a room full of people who
would know I was there for this class - this *sex* class.  Of course,
this was a silly reaction; *they* were here for the very same class,
after all...but it still took a good half-second for me to unfreeze and
continue into the room.

I suppose I had been expecting something like a typical high-school or
university classroom, a sterile-feeling room with a bunch of desks
facing some kind of lecture podium.  It looked nothing like that.  It
actually looked more like someone's living room with a bunch of chairs
set in an inward-facing circle; I particularly remember noticing that
the floor was carpeted.  (Funny, the things we notice.)  Perhaps a
third of the chairs were occupied; I quietly sat down, feeling very
conspicuous and trying to look as inconspicuous as possible.

There was a clock on one wall.  It was about seven minutes to nominal
class time.  I sat there fidgeting, trying not to look at others
fidgeting.  I remember hurriedly looking away, once, as I realized my
gaze had come to rest briefly on someone's crotch - I can't even
remember whether it was a man's or a woman's, though I do remember that
whoever it was was wearing blue jeans.  Over the next few minutes, a
few more people arrived, looking nervous and uncomfortable.  Finally,
though, class time rolled around.

A man, about thirty degrees to my right around the circle of chairs,
stood up.  At about the same moment, a woman almost exactly opposite
him stood up.  They stepped into the centre of the circle and turned to
look briefly at each of us in turn.  I remember specifically noticing,
oddly enough, that they were smiling rather gentle smiles.

The woman spoke.

"Good evening, and welcome to Everdale."  She paused, very briefly.
"My name is Janice Undermarr, and this is Jim Powell.  We're the
instructors for this class, Introduction to Sex.  First, I've got here"
- she waved a clipboard - "the attendance sheet.  I'll pass it around;
please tick the box in the first column next to your ID number."  She
handed it to one of the people seated in the circle, who ticked a box
and started it around.  After a few seconds, the man - Jim - spoke up,
speaking slowly and with many pauses.

"This first class is largely for us to meet one another and get some
idea of the routine surrounding the classes.  There really isn't much
routine involved - basically just show up, mark yourself down on the
attendance sheet, and -"  At this point the sheet came around to me.
It had at least twice as many numbers on it as there were people in the
room.  But it did have mine, so I marked my box in the first column of
boxes and passed the clipboard along.  Jim was still talking.  "- the
same, except of course that they're held at the Jefferson Street
location.  And as noted in the intro material, dress can be important.
The classroom sessions, here, it doesn't matter, but for the labs, you
probably shouldn't wear anything especially difficult or lengthy to
take off or put back on."

He paused longer than usual, while the clipboard finished its trip
around the circle.  The last person handed it back to Janice.  She
spoke again.  "There is no lab this weekend; the first lab will be held
Saturday the 3rd."  She and Jim returned to the chairs they had been
sitting in and sat back down, Janice stepping outside the ring of
chairs long enough to put the clipboard down on a small table first.
Jim spoke up once they were seated, speaking much more fluidly; the odd
pauses were gone.

"We'd like to go around and do introductions.  As the new-student sheet
says, we don't ask for your full name, and, if you're more comfortable
doing so, please feel free to make up a name for use here in class -
that's one reason the attendance sheet has numbers rather than names on
it."  He paused briefly.  "As Janice already mentioned, I'm Jim."  He
turned expectantly to the man sitting to his left.  His voice was
barely audible as he said, staring at the floor, "I'm Mike.".  To his
left was a woman who said in a light, clear voice, "Edith."  Next was
Helen, who seemed as shy as Mike had.  Then myself; I tried to avoid
mumbling but rather spoiled the effect by finding I had trouble making
my voice work.  "Sean."  The woman to my left said, "Rachel.".  Then a
plump man called himself Ed.  The next woman smiled slightly and said
"My name is also Helen, but as we already have a Helen here" - she
nodded towards her, between Edith and myself - "I think I'll go by my
other name.  Call me Cat.".  She held up one hand in a clawing motion,
which made her fingernails really obvious; they were quite impressively
long.  Following her were Cathy, Sue, and Eric.  Then the woman
instructor, who smiled slightly and said, "As I said before, I'm
Janice.".  She turned to the woman on her left, who swallowed visibly
and said, almost inaudibly, "Ann.".  Then Kim.  The next man, who had
been holding hands with Kim, said "I'm David.  And, please, David, not
Dave."  This produced a chuckle from the next person in the ring, a man
who said "I'm named David too, but fortunately I prefer Dave."  The
next woman said simply "Call me Carrot.".  Her hair suited the name,
being flaming red enough that I felt sure it was dyed.  Then Scott
introduced himself.  The next man smiled, glanced at the Helen who
called herself Cat and then at Jim, and said "My name is Jim too, so I
think I'll call myself Joker.".  This left only a woman sitting between
the two Jims, who identified herself as Gail.

As soon as the naming had gone around the circle, Janice spoke up
again.  "Of course, we don't expect you to memorize all these names
instantly.  Jim and I can probably come pretty close, but we have the
benefit of training and practice.".  She grinned.  "One note, though -
those of you who made names up on the spot, please make sure you
remember the name you picked.".

"And feel free to interrupt anytime if you have anything you'd like to
ask or say.  We're not just here to lecture to you; while we are in a
sense teaching a class, this *is* a cooperative endeavour.  And on a
related note, please, we're Janice and Jim, not Ms. Undermarr and Mr.
Powell."  She smiled, and I suddenly realized I found her quite
attractive.  After a moment or two, she continued.  "I assume you've
all read the calendar's description of this course, so you have at
least a vague idea of what we'll be covering over the next five months.
I'm sure many of you are already familiar with at least a little of it,
but practically everything is new to *someone*, so we do make a point
of covering it all."

She fell silent.  After a few moments Kim made a small tentative "um"
noise.  Jim and Janice smiled and turned towards her, as did most of
the class.  She reddened but held onto David's hand, visibly gathered
her determination, and said "I wonder if...um...well, I've read the
description...but, um, could you...well...it wasn't entirely clear.
Could you talk about it a bit?"  The last sentence came out in a rush.

Janice smiled.  "Sure."  She exchanged glances with Jim; he sat back in
his chair and she continued speaking.

"Let's go over the items listed in the calendar."  She started to tick
points off on her fingers.  ""What sex is and isn't."  The point here
is to be clear what we are and aren't talking about.  Sex means many
things to many people, so we try to get this mentioned early."  She
counted off two more fingers at once.  "The genitals of both sexes.
Since so much of what we are talking about involves them, we try to
give at least a rudimentary familiarity with them."  As she started to
count off another finger, Ed, to my left, said something indistinct.
She paused and turned to him, remaining silent but looking interested.

He said, ""So much of"?  What else is there?"

She nodded.  "There actually is more, yes.  We'll go into that more
next week."  She continued with the finger-count she had paused.
"Myths and misconceptions.  There is a lot of distorted information and
some outright *wrong* information running around about sex.  We try to
correct some of the commonest.".  She counted off her thumb.  "The
various sexual orientations - hetero, homo, bi.  We try to give at
least some idea what they are and aren't."  She started counting on the
other hand's fingers.  "Various functions of sex - biological, social,
emotional, spiritual.  Here, we begin to leave the realm of sex as a
part of the human condition and enter the realm of sex as a part of
society.  Sex plays many roles, or if you prefer, sex has many facets.
Classifying them into these four groups is as inevitably wrong as any
classification, but it gives us a framework for talking about some of
the most important functions sex plays."  She stopped counting on her
fingers, opening both hands.  "And finally, some legal, moral, ethical,
and religious aspects.  These are definitely culture-specific, and we
discuss primarily this culture.  Where interesting and useful, we draw
on other cultures for examples and contrasts, but we can't go into
other cultures in much depth and still fit anything else into the
course."

She stood up and started to walk around the circle, giving the
impression of pacing while talking.  "That covers the classroom.  As
for the lab work, well..."  She started counting on her fingers again.
"Familiarization and accustomization.  The idea here is to get used to
including sexuality in your concept of yourself.  Your body, for
example - many people know a lot about almost every aspect of their
bodies *except* the sexual aspects.  Yet everyone is sexual to some
extent, in some way."  She stood on tiptoe and stretched her hands up
towards the ceiling, arching her back in a way that made her breasts
stand out prominently.  She wriggled sensuously and ran her hands
lightly down over her clothes.  I blushed crimson and felt...I don't
know, felt simultaneously unable to look away and as though I ought to
be looking away, as though I were looking at something I shouldn't be.
It was only a moment, though, before she resumed standing as she had
before and counted off another finger.  "Manual sex.  Masturbation -"
She ran one hand over the crotch of her pants as she turned, lingering
just long enough that it was obvious she meant to linger.  "- and
mutual masturbation."  She took two quick steps and was standing in
front of her co-instructor.  She ran her other hand over his crotch in
a similar way.  I felt I was blushing hot enough to light a match,
shocked by her brazenness, yet at the same time knowing how
unreasonable it was to be so shocked.  He slumped in his chair as she
said, "Simple intercourse..." and stepped forward, straddling his hips
and letting her knees bend to lower herself until she was almost
sitting on his lap, for the briefest moment.  As she stood back up and
stepped back she continued, "...and oral sex."  She let her mouth fall
open and ran her tonguetip around her lips, her gaze on Jim's face.  I
glanced at him in time to see him licking his lips slowly, smiling.
She was reaching one hand out to him, as he was to her; as he stood up
their fingertips brushed, and she took a step into the middle of the
ring of chairs.  As he took a step following her, I suddenly remembered
what followed oral sex in the calendar's description of the course.
Sure enough, he laid his hands on her hips and stood only inches away
from her, then as she continued "Anal sex...", she bent forward a
little at the hips he pulled her hips back and thrust his against them,
just once.  He let go as she straightened up, turning on one foot until
she was standing shoulder-to-shoulder with him.  "...and non-genital
sex.", she finished, her fingertips brushing his chest, up to his neck,
as she nibbled briefly on his ear.  His hand rose to brush her breast
just as briefly, as she spun away, ending up right in front of her
chair, which she then sat down in.

About then I suddenly realized I needed to breathe.

Jim stood still in the middle of the ring of chairs for a moment, then
turned slowly around, looking at the whole class.  As he faced me, I
noticed that the crotch of his pants was bulging visibly; he either
didn't notice or didn't care.  "Now that we have your attention..." he
said dryly, and chuckled.  "Yes, that was planned and choreographed
ahead of time."  His voice suddenly turned from playful to sober.  "If
you're like every other class we've had for this course, it made most
of you a bit uncomfortable.  We're sorry about that; while we don't
like making our students uncomfortable, we also haven't found any
reliable way of breaking through the cultural sex-is-bad conditioning
that doesn't provoke discomfort.  Not all instructors use our methods,
but on that point there's agreement: getting rid of that conditioning
always involves some discomfort."  As he spoke, he was turning slowly,
facing each person in turn.  "We aren't going to ask you to do
everything the first day.  It's a week and a half to the first lab, and
even then we will be expecting you to take it slow and easy.  You can't
heal a lifetime of repression overnight."  He returned to his seat and
fell silent.

There was a long moment of silence, at least three seconds.  Nobody
moved.  Finally Eric said, "Um, uh, Jim?"  Jim turned towards him.
Eric continued, "You said that little dance was planned ahead of time.
What would you have done if -"  He broke off and turned to Kim.  "I'm
sorry, I've forgotten your name already."

"Kim", she supplied.

He turned back to Jim.  "- if Kim hadn't asked Janet -"

"Janice", Janice corrected quietly.

Eric didn't seem to notice.  "- to talk about the course contents?"

Jim smiled.  "Someone else would have.  About one class in five, we
need to do a little conversation-steering.  At worst we would have had
to bring it up ourselves."

There was another uncomfortable silence.  Finally Kim turned to Janice.
"Were you really not uncomfortable doing that?"

Janice smiled.  "Not at all, no more than you would be showing off, oh,
say, those lovely earrings you're wearing."  I looked at Kim's ears.
She was wearing earrings, a deceptively simple design that seemed to be
all circles.  Janice was continuing.  "I'm thirty-nine.  I've been
working on shaking free from - and staying free from - that cultural
conditioning Jim mentioned for, oh, nearly twenty years now.  Add to
that the familiar context of this class, and no, I wasn't uncomfortable
in the least.  I *enjoy* my sexuality, especially being playful with
it.  Like that."

Jim spoke up.  "It's like anything else: practice, practice, practice."
He stood up and stepped to the center of the ring of chairs again and
started turning slowly, looking over the class.  "I don't know if any
of you noticed...just after she -" he inclined his head towards Janice
"- sat down again and I was looking over the class like this..."  He
finished turning, facing Kim.  "I had a bit of an erection.  Still do,
for that matter."  He looked down at his crotch and patted it fondly -
and Kim blushed deeply.  So did I, though I would have thought it
impossible for me to blush any redder at that point.  "It didn't -
doesn't - bother me in the least."  He turned as he spoke, speaking not
to Kim directly but to the class as a whole.  "If any of you noticed,
you likely also noticed I wasn't making any effort to hide it."  He
returned to his chair.  "Like Janice, I've learned to *enjoy* my
sexuality - or more precisely, I've unlearned refusing to enjoy it.
When something stirs it up, it's rather like, say, having my hunger
stirred up by the sight or smell of good food: I can enjoy it for its
own sake, I can ignore it, or I can pursue it."  He shrugged.  "Which
one I pick depends on context.  If I start lusting after someone when
I'm taking the bus, I don't just start hitting on her, any more than if
I see someone eating a yummy lunch I ask to have some.  But I'm no more
ashamed of my reactions to the sight of a sexy-looking woman than I am
of my reactions to the sight of a delicious-looking lunch."

A voice from my left said, "But surely sex is more than that.".  I
turned to look at the speaker; it was Cat.

"Oh, of course.", Jim replied.  "All I was talking about was just being
ashamed of, or embarrased by, being sexual.  Sure, sex is more than
just reacting to bodies that grab me by the balls, as it were.  But,
well, take that little dance Janice and I just did.  Why did that shock
you so?  Because it was overtly sexual.  Remove the sexuality from it
and there would have been nothing even remarkable there.  So why does
its being sexual make it shocking?"

Cat replied slowly, "But sex is a private thing.".

"Our society teaches us that sex is a private thing.  This is by no
means universal among human societies, and among other, nonhuman,
creatures, one has to look hard to find any that even seem to *have*
"private" and "nonprivate" in any meaningful sense."

"But shouldn't we fit into our society?"

"Certainly, to a point.  But, to pick another example, putting on your
clothes is something that is normally done in private.  Yet nobody
would blink at the idea that, say, if you bought a new item of clothing
that was complicated to put on, that someone would teach you how, or
that the nonprivacy of doing that would be shameful or inappropriate.
Unless!" he leaned forward and paused for a moment for emphasis.
"Unless it were something like underwear, something that brings sex
into it somehow."  He sat back up.  "One of the things we here at
Everdale are trying to teach is getting rid of those automatic
reactions that surround sex.  This is not to say that, for example,
well, consider my earlier example: that erection I got.  When I say I
enjoy it and that it's not something to be ashamed of, I don't mean
that I always let it show the way I did today when I get hard.  What
I've unlearned is the *automatic* reaction, the feeling that it's
*always* something to be ashamed of, something to hide and pretend
doesn't exist.  If, say, I were in a city council meeting and I
happened to get hard, I would probably go to some minor effort to
conceal it - not because I was ashamed of it, but simply because it
would be inappropriate to the context.  Here, on the other hand, is
completely different."

Cat didn't reply, sitting back in her chair and looking thoughtful.

After another long silence, Janice spoke up.  "Another thing worth
noting.  What Jim has just said applies equally to other aspects, not
just the physical ones.  In particular, our language has only two ways
to speak of sex: vocabulary used to talk *around* it, clinical terms
and elliptical euphemisms, and vocabulary traditionally considered
vulgar, obscene, offensive.  We have found it's usually better to
co-opt the latter and, by using it in ordinary conversational ways,
drain it of its negative emotional loading.  There are two benefits to
this.  One is that the clinical terms are unfamiliar to many people,
and many who *have* heard them are unclear on exactly what they refer
to, while the elliptical and euphemistic are unclear by their very
nature - but practically everyone knows the stronger language.  The
other is that by doing this, by reclaiming the words that have been
ostracized, we fight the social pressure to ostracize the things and
actions they refer to."  She paused.  "Oh, and there's a third reason:
becoming comfortable with the terms usually helps with becoming
comfortable with the ideas and actions."  She paused again, then
thoughtfully reached one hand up and cupped her breast, looking down at
it for a moment.  "For example, what is this?  There are many words in
the language.  But we, the Everdale people, would most likely call it a
tit.  You don't have to; use whatever words you feel most comfortable
with - you're unlikely to come up with anything that confuses us."  She
chuckled as she let her hand return to her lap.  "In a similar vein, I
once heard someone giving a talk say `Nobody says "Please be so kind as
to insert your penis in my vagina".  You're much more likely to hear
"C'mere and stick that cock up my cunt".'."

Chapter 8: Aftermath

There was another long silence.  Then Jim said, "I think that covers
everything we wanted to get said today.  The class time is only about
half over; if you'd care to leave, go ahead.  But Janice and I will
stick around; we'd like to chat with any of you that would care to stay
too.  We try to be friends as well as teachers."  He and Janice stood
up, and she walked over and opened the door, picking up the clipboard
and leaving with it; he followed more slowly, and about when he got to
the door, she returned, empty-handed.  She leaned against the edge of
the door, swaying slightly from side to side, and said to Jim in a
quiet voice - about right for a conversation in a roomful of people -
"Another class.  I wonder how this one will turn out."  Everyone else
was silent enough that her voice carried clearly throughout the room.

Jim spoke in a similar voice.  "My guess is, this one will turn out
pretty well.  Four people spoke up, without even any prompting."

Janice said something in reply, but I didn't catch what, because about
then David turned to Kim.  "Shall we go, or would you like to stick
around?"

Kim let go of David's hand and stood up.  "I'd rather stick around.
I've got some questions to ask those two."  She walked across the
circle, between Rachel and the empty chair to her left, towards Janice
and Jim.

As she passed out of the ring of chairs, some three or four more people
stood up almost at once; as if in response, so did almost everyone
else, including me.  Only Gail remained sitting; she appeared lost in
thought.  I heard Kim's voice begin, "I wonder if you could..." but I
didn't hear the rest, because Helen, to my right, spoke to me.

"I'm sorry, I can't recall your name.  I'm Helen."

She had her hand extended towards me.  I shook it, introducing myself.
"Sean."  Her handshake was a little weak.  "How d'you do?"

"Still a little shaky, to be honest.  I can see this class is going to
take some getting used to."  She smiled and shook her head slowly, as
if to herself.  "I thought I was going to just *die* when
what's-her-name, Janice, went into that little act."

"Yeah, that was..."  My voice trailed off.  "I can only wonder what the
first day of lab is going to be like."

She buried her face in one hand.  "Oh, God, yeah."  She stood up
straight, slowly, deliberately.  "Well, it's what I came here for, I
suppose."

I chuckled, echoing, "I suppose."

She made no immediate response, and I realized that there was a
background babble of voices, that most of the room had broken up into
little conversations of two and three people.  Gail, however, was still
seated.  I nodded past Helen towards her.  "I wonder what's with her."

Helen turned to see whom I was talking about.  "I dunno."  She did
something like a small double-take and said in a low voice, "Wow."

I didn't see anything particularly noteworthy.  "Wow?"

She half-turned back towards me, then looked at the floor for a moment.
Then she looked right at me and said, "She's quite a looker."

I looked at Gail for a moment or two, then shrugged.  She was on the
tall and thin side, with a small nose and oddly deep-set eyes.
"Doesn't look particularly remarkable to me."

Helen looked back at Gail and smiled.  "Looks, mmm, just right to me."
She seemed quite taken by the sight.

My attention wandered and was caught by Dave, who was holding one of
Cat's fingers, apparently examining the fingernail.  I glanced at
Helen, who still seemed quite fascinated with Gail, and wandered over
towards Dave and Cat.

Cat was saying, "...care of them.  These, if I chip one or something,
at worst I just have to replace it.  Besides, they take attention only
every week or two, instead of every day or two."

Dave nodded and replied, "I was sure they had to be."

This didn't sound very interesting to me, and besides, I felt pretty
weirded out and wanted to escape.  I continued on towards the door and
left, catching a few words "...few years ago, when we..." from Janice.

I walked home on autopilot; the next thing I remember was sitting at
home replaying in my mind the image of Janice brushing her crotch and
Jim's, noticing I was kneading my cock through my pants.  I was just
noticing this, considering taking it out and stroking it more directly,
when the phone rang.

I shrugged mentally - I could always get my jollies later - and picked
it up.  "Hello?"

"Hi, Sean."  Chris's voice.  "How was class?"

I laughed.  I don't know what it was, but something about the
matter-of-fact way she asked that, as if she were asking me how my trip
to the grocery store had gone, something just struck me as amusing.
And as sometimes happens, once I started laughing, everything only
seemed funnier.  Within a few seconds, I was curled up helplessly on
the floor, laughing so hard I could barely hold onto the phone.  I
suppose it was largely tension release, but whatever it was, it took at
least a minute or two to drain.  Finally it did, though; the laughter
faded and I got up off the floor and sat back down.

Chris was still on the line, and chuckling.  I said, "Sorry about that.
Just struck me as funny, how deadpan you sounded."

She riposted dryly, "How _should_ I have sounded?"

"Point", I admitted.  "Anyhow, how was class.  Well, I met the rest of
the class, and the instructors..."

"Which instructors?"

"Janice Undersomethingorother and Jim, I forget his last name."

"Oh, the J-and-J team.  You'll be in good hands.  Though I must admit
they do have a tendency to haul out the tacnukes when it comes to
shaking up cultural conditioning.  As you no doubt know by now."

I chuckled, remembering.  "I...may have some slight idea."  An idea
struck me and I glanced at my watch.  "Hey.  How come you called me
right after I got home?  Class officially got out only about thirty
seconds ago."

I could hear the impish grin in her voice.  "I cheated.  I was lurking
on the corner of Kennedy and Oaks, watching for you."

"How'd you know I was going straight home?"

"I didn't.  But it seemed pretty likely, and even if you didn't, hey,
it's not a bad day to be hanging around outdoors."

"I suppose - hey, where are you calling from then, that close to here?"

"Wouldn't *you* like to know."  She was clearly teasing.

I decided to go the "sulky" route.  "Fine.  *Be* that way.  *See* if I
care."

"Hey, that's not how you're supposed to react!  How am I supposed to
tease you properly if you run away and sulk when I try?"

I chuckled and gave her the dry voice right back.  "So how *am* I
supposed to react?"

"Don't you want even a teensy little hint?"

"Well, I suppose..."

"How about Twenty Questions?"

I laughed briefly.  "Well, I suppose the traditional animal, vegetable,
mineral opening question doesn't work very well when I'm looking for
something like a place."

"True enough."

"Okay.  Hmm.  You're obviously calling from somewhere with a phone."  I
got an idea and leaned over to look at the caller-ID box.  The number
looked vaguely familiar and I got a sudden wild notion.  Nah, couldn't
be.  Well, let's ask a question that might give some information
anyway.  "Have you called me from that phone number before?"

"Yes."

Maybe it _could_ be.  "Your place?"

"Hey, you cheated!"

"I *thought* I'd seen that number somewhere before."

"Seen that number?  Oh, you've got caller ID, doncha."

"Yup."

"Drat.  I should've used my modem line."

"But that woulda spoiled my pulling twenty questions down to two."

"I guess.  Anyway, so you met the class, and I imagine J and J pulled
their usual shock-everyone trick...anything else noteworthy?"

"They certainly did something that I'd say fits that description.
Noteworthy?  Well, one of the class is this woman with really
outrageously long fingernails.  Stick-on fakes, if what I overheard
indicates what it seems to."

"Unless she's one of the idle rich, yeah, probably...and them we don't
get too many of, usually."

"I daresay."

"So what's up?  Annoyed with me for interrupting a jack-off with a
phone call?"  Her tone was clearly bantering, and I found I didn't
really feel the offense I halfway felt I ought to feel.

"Ahem."  I was hardly as comfortable as "J and J" were with matters
sexual, not enough so that I would freely answer "not quite but if
you'd waited another few minutes you would have", even to Chris.

"Well, hey, I have to help them get you used to such topics of
conversation."

"You do?"

"I suppose perhaps not.  Does it bother you?  I can stop."

"Well...I guess not.  Or more precisely, I suppose, it does bother me
some but I don't want you to let that stop you."

"Well, don't let me keep you from."  Her voice took on a dry, humorous
tone.  "Want me to keep you company on the phone?"

Sheesh.  Chris was being almost as brazen verbally as those two
instructors had been visually; she had just offered, in almost as many
words, to phone-sex with me while we both masturbated.  I felt pulled
in two directions.  Part of me very much wanted to say "yes!", but
another part of me was just too weirded out.  I retreated into the
rational introspective attitude.  "I don't think I'm ready to deal with
that just yet."

"Okay."  I could almost hear her shrug.  "Anyhow, I should probably get
going, and I'll let you..go do whatever it turns out to be you go and
do.  I just wanted to talk to you a little, find out how your first
class had gone for you."

"Okay.  Talk to you sometime!"

"Bye."

I hung up.  I looked thoughtfully down at my crotch for a moment,
considering.  I had lost what feeling of arousal I'd had when the phone
rang, and I was still uncomfortable enough about being thought of as
sexual that Chris's guess had been too close to accurate for comfort,
leaving me distinctly turned off.  I puttered around for a bit and
turned in early.

Over most of the next day, I mulled over what had happened at that
first class.  It was just as well I was thoroughly used to work; I've
said, on occasion, that I could do it in my sleep, and that day I felt
as though I might as well be doing just that.  Presumably I did okay
playing my character that Monday, because I don't recall anything
either way about it.  All I recall was that I was constantly wondering
whether I wanted to take advantage of a clause I'd noticed in the
paperwork, that I could withdraw from the course anytime during the
first two weeks and get almost all my money back.

Chapter 9: Second class

By the time Wednesday rolled around, I still wasn't at all sure.  But
when evening arrived, I found myself in a "what the heck" mood, which
made me decide to go for it.

The classroom looked about the same, except there were fewer chairs; at
a brief estimate, only slightly more than there had been people a week
ago.  They were arranged in a similar circle, only somewhat smaller.
Half a dozen people were already there, but Janice and Jim weren't,
even though it was only about five minutes to class time.

By a minute or so before class time, almost everyone was there - the
only person I was sure had been there last time but wasn't now was Mike
- when Janice and Jim arrived.  Jim started talking right away.

"Good evening.  Tonight, we thought we'd do a `view from ten thousand
feet', as it were - an overview of everything we'll be covering, in
somewhat more detail than the one-sentence summary we did last week.
We'll try to fit it all in tonight, but it'll probably spill over into
next week."

He paused for about a second, then continuing, "Remember, feel free to
interrupt if you have anything to ask or say."  He paused again.  "The
first point, then: what sex is and isn't - what we are and aren't
discussing in this class."

"The most fundamental definition, underlying all the others, is the
basic reproductive activity.  But there is more, much more, to our
topic than just reproduction.  We already did a once-over of what we'll
be talking about, which is almost a summary of what we mean by sex, but
there are a few things I'd like to specifically remark we *aren't*
including in the term.  All of these are things that are associated
with sex, and when we discuss the relevant aspects of sex we will touch
upon them, but they are just that: tangential to our main topic."

"One is companionship.  Sex and companionship do go together in many
respects, but we consider them basically distinct, whereas our culture
assumes that, for example, that you're sharing sex with a companion
you're living with."

"Another is love.  This one is particularly troublesome, because in
this culture the lines between sex and love are very unclear - for
example, people sometimes say `making love' even when talking about sex
that doesn't involve love at all.  Indeed, English uses `lover' to
refer to any sex partner."

"Another is nudity.  While nobody really confuses the two, our culture
sexualizes nudity heavily, while they actually are mostly unrelated
except for cultural associations."

[[
more "isn't sex" things?
]]

"On to the next two items.  While there are things we're including as
`sex' that don't have anything to do with anyone's genitals, most of
the subject does.  As such, a little basic familiarity is good."

"Most of you are probably at least casually familiar with your own
genitals, though even in this day and age we find there are people who
aren't, who have avoided learning anything about `down there' as much
as possible.  And even among people with some sexual experience, we
find many who know almost nothing about the other sex's `equipment'."

He turned to Janice.  "Janice?"

She was standing next to a cabinet mounted on one wall.  She opened it
and did something I couldn't see inside it.  The room's lights dimmed
and a rectangle of white light appeared on one wall.  Looking around, I
found a small window high on the opposite wall; apparently there was
some kind of projector installed.  There was a brief noise as those
facing other directions turned towards the lit wall.

Jim resumed speaking from the semi-darkness.  "This is not the lab; for
the time being we'll make do with pictures."  He paused, and a picture
appeared on the screen, showing a nude man from approximately the
bottom of his ribcage to mid-thigh, in about three-quarter profile.
"The male genitals.  There is as much variation here as in any other
aspect of the body."  The picture changed.  And changed again.  As more
pictures flipped past, Jim's voice spoke up again.  "These pictures
show men who aren't sexually aroused."  After about a dozen pictures,
the screen went dark grey and Jim spoke up again.  "Things look rather
different when the man gets hard."

A picture appeared.  "Here's that first picture again.  Now..."  The
man on the screen began to move.  His hips shifted slightly as his
penis began to swell, stiffening gradually, until some ten seconds
later it was fully erect.  A second or two later, the picture changed:
another man, limp (I thought it was another of the pictures we'd seen
before).  He too grew hard.  This was repeated a few more times.
Finally, the screen froze, showing the last picture, and Jim spoke
again.

"When a man cums, there is usually a physiological reaction called
`ejaculation'."  The image changed abruptly.  It was clearly the same
man, but his position was slightly different.  His cock pulsed and
jetted white from the tip.  I suddenly realized I was quite hard
myself.

A voice spoke from the class.  "`Usually'?"  I couldn't identify whose
voice it was, though it was clearly a man's.

The screen changed, showing another man, also hard.  The picture was
static, unmoving.  Jim's voice replied, "Yes, usually.  Male orgasm is
not always accompanied by ejaculation.  We'll talk about this more in a
later class."

The on-screen image came to life; the man came.  Then another.  After a
half-dozen of these, the screen went grey again.  Jim spoke.  "That's
the basics of male sexual genital function.  Of course, what you've
seen here is heavily edited.  As for cautions, there are a few.  One is
that it doesn't take much pressure on a man's balls to be quite
painful.  Many men find *light* pressure - such as rolling them loosely
between fingers and thumb - erotic, but much more than that gets
painful.  Another is that while a limp cock is very flexible, a hard
cock is not.  This is not normally a problem; a hard-on is stiff enough
that you are not likely to damage it without trying to - but you should
be aware that if enough force is used to bend it anyway, injury is
likely to result.  The third is that under some circumstances, a man's
cock can get so sensitive that further stimulation is actually
unpleasant.  This often happens immediately after cumming, for example.
In general, let the man's reactions be your guide."

I heard Jim and Janice walking towards and past one another.  Janice
spoke up from where Jim had been.  "The female genitals."  A picture
appeared on the screen, showing a nude woman, approximately the same
shot as the nude men.  "Here too, there is wide variation."  Several
pictures went by.  As the screen went grey, she spoke further.  "The
change with arousal is less visually obvious for a woman than it is for
a man."

One of the pictures reappeared.  The woman shifted her hips slightly
and the lips of her pussy, barely visible amid her crotch hair, became
slightly more prominent.  After some ten seconds or so, the picture
froze.  "Compare this to the previous picture."  The two picture
alternated briefly.  "You can see what I mean."  The picture was
replaced by another one, which changed similarly.  Janice spoke again.

"The most general sign of arousal in a woman, perhaps the closest
physiological analog to a man's erection, is vaginal lubrication.  As
one speaks of a man getting hard, one speaks of a woman getting wet;
this is why.  This particular woman was picked because she gets even
wetter than most."  The picture changed again; the picture was now
taken from much lower, and the woman was standing with her legs parted
some thirty degrees.  This time, not only did her pussy-lips become
much more pronounced, they became visibly wet, generating enough liquid
that I could actually see a droplet running down her thigh.  The
picture froze and Janice spoke.

"A woman's orgasm is also generally less obvious just from watching her
pussy, as compared to watching a man's cock as he cums.  In both sexes,
cumming is usually accompanied by many other signs - breathing changes,
flushing of the face and upper torso, often vocal noises and an amazing
variety of facial expression, and often various motions of the rest of
the body.  Each of these signs is present more in some people than
others, of course.  This particular woman moves her hips very little
when cumming, so she's a good example of how little the female orgasm
is apparent from just looking at her pussy."  The picture resumed
motion; the woman's hips rolled slightly and I saw a hand appear
briefly in one corner of the screen.  Then her thigh and groin muscles
tensed strongly for a couple of seconds and relaxed.

"This varies widely."  The screen changed, showing another woman.  She
was rolling her hips strongly, when suddenly her legs scissored apart
and back together very quickly and her back arched, as if presenting
her crotch to the camera, and her hips continued to buck.  A few
seconds later, she relaxed and I saw a glistening sheen on her
pussy-lips and where they had touched her thighs.  The image changed
again.  This woman had her legs spread and was opening and closing them
partially, between maybe 45 and 90 degrees.  "Some women get wetter
than others, both when getting aroused and when cumming."  The woman on
screen shuddered, a whole-body shudder, and I saw liquid running from
her pussy down her thighs in almost a steady stream, for a moment or
two.

[[
Check this next paragraph with a woman!
]]
The screen went grey.  Janice spoke.  "Cautions with respect to the
female are largely a matter of knowing that the structures are
comparatively delicate, much more so than with the male.  While it's
true that when fucking, one can be quite vigorous, you have to realize
that one, the only part of her cunt that is really very involved is the
vagina, and two, that the man's cock is a relatively soft and rounded
object - much more so than a fingertip, say, especially a fingertip
with a significant fingernail.  The vaginal wall is quite tough enough
to take a cock sliding in it, at least if the woman's aroused enough to
be wet - but if she's not, or if it has to deal with a careless
fingernail instead of a cock, it's another story entirely.  And the
rest of a pussy is even more delicate, and the clit and the area near
it are often so sensitive that direct contact is uncomfortable even
absent the risk of doing any injury.  As Jim said of men, the woman's
preferences are your best guide."

The projector went dark and the room lights brightened.  The circle of
chairs was rather in disarray, with everyone facing the wall that had
been used as a projector screen.  Jim and Janice returned to chairs in
the circle, and the people who'd moved adjusted their chairs to face
inwards again.  Janice continued talking.

"We'll go into the subject in more depth later; what we've given here
is just an overview of the rudiments."

"Next, myths and misconceptions."  She sighed.  "There is *so* much
misleading and outright *wrong* information running around about sex,
it's quite discouraging sometimes.  The worst all cluster around a
notion that there's something inherently wrong with sex, with being
sexual.  Being sexual is no more inherently wrong than being bipedal;
each is a normal part of the human condition.  Sex *can* be wrong, but
so can almost anything - it's like using a hammer to hurt someone: the
wrongness comes from the misuse, not the thing."

"Related to this is the notion that masturbation is wrong, that there
is something bad about giving oneself sexual pleasure.  This is no more
wrong than giving oneself any other physical pleasure, from a long hot
bath when you're tired to a tasty meal when you're hungry."  She
chuckled.  "Admittedly, there are people who hold that all pleasure is
inherently bad - and from that point of view, masturbation is as bad as
any, possibly worse because sexual pleasure is so intense.  The myth we
try to dispel is that being sexual makes it inherently wrong.  And for
some, there are religious edicts against sex.  While we hardly agree
with them, we have no particular problem with them, any more than we
have a problem with, say, the Jewish prohibition on wearing clothing
made of mixed fibers even though we do that.  But someone with
religious prohibitions on sex is unlikely to be very comfortable here."

Jim spoke up.  "Another common myth is that sex `should' end in orgasm,
that there's something wrong if it doesn't.  This is total bullshit;
any experience that is satisfactory to both participants is fine.
Orgasm is only as necessary as the participants make it.  This is not
to say that there's anything *wrong* with wanting to cum, or with being
dissatisfied if you don't.  Just that letting some preconceived notion
of what `should' happen determine whether an experience is a `success',
that's silly.  And there's another myth lurking in that little word
`end': the notion that the experience ends with orgasm.  Perhaps for
some people, perhaps in some cases, it does.  There's certainly nothing
that says it has to.  It's true that a man is unable to get hard for a
certain time after cumming, and, while that time varies widely, it is
there.  But you can either wait it out or do any of the many things
that don't require an erection, if you want."

After a brief pause, Janice spoke up.  "Next topic: sexual orientation.
These days, practically everyone knows that some people prefer to share
their sexual pleasure with others of their own sex."  She spoke slowly
and quietly, but forcefully.  "There is nothing wrong with this."

"There are numerous arguments purporting to show that it's wrong.  I
think by now I've heard most of them.  I agree with none, obviously,
but I also believe I can refute them.  I mention this largely because
if you are still bothered by any of them, you probably will have a hard
time with this class.  If you prefer, of course, you can drop it, but
if you'd rather, I can try to quell any lingering doubts."  She paused,
and someone - a man, but I can't recall who - spoke up.

"I'd be interested to hear your refutation of one of them."

"Certainly.  Which one?"

"The argument that homosexuality is unnatural, because it cannot lead
to children."

"That argument falls apart on two points: one, how does its being
unable to lead to children make it unnatural, and two, even if we
grant, for the sake of argument, that it is unnatural, how does that
make it wrong?"  She waved an arm around the room.  "Buildings of
concrete and glass are unnatural; are they wrong?"  She held up the hem
of her shirt.  "Clothing of synthetic fibres - clothing at all,
actually - is unnatural; is it wrong?  And as I said, that's even
granting that homosexuality is unnatural, which as I said remains to be
established - consider hetero oral sex, which is nonreproductive;
consider also that, say, playing Frisbee is nonreproductive but nobody
thinks any the worse of it for that."

"But - ...mmm."  The man started to say something, then took on a
thoughtful expression and fell silent.  After a moment Janice
continued.

"Of course, like most aspects of human behaviour, heterosexuality and
homosexuality are two poles of a spectrum, rarely met with unmixed.
When each is present to a significant degree, the result is spoken of
as `bi', or more fully, `bisexual'.  I, for example, generally prefer
men for my sexual partners, but I have had - and surely will have again
- sex with women.  Depending on my mood, I speak of myself as bi with
straight tendencies or straight with bi tendencies."

Jim spoke up.  "If I might return for a moment to the `myths and
misconceptions' topic, this is a good opportunity to mention this: many
people have a bit of trouble with homosexuality that can be summarized
as the `but what do two men (or women) *do* in bed?' question.  This
question is really exhibiting a very restricted notion of sex, since
the only sexual activities restricted to heterosexual couples are those
requiring genitals of both sexes: penis-in-vagina intercourse is the
most obvious.  The answer to the question is, anything anyone does,
except those."  He paused for a moment and grinned.  "If that
eliminates most of your notion of sex, well, that's why Everdale is
here.  There *is* a lot more to it."

David spoke up.  "If I may..."

Jim turned towards him and looked inquiring.  He continued, "I can
offer a personal anecdote here.  I had a male lover, once, years back.
When my folks heard about it, I got a long letter from my father which,
reading between the lines, revealed that he thought sex between two men
necessarily meant ana..uh..."  He reddened.  "Sorry.  Language habits.
Thought sex between two men necessarily meant assfucking."  He
chuckled.  "This is especially amusing because of all the things we
did, that's one we never did try."

Kim interjected, "And that you and I _have_ tried it."

Jim nodded.  "There you are."  He spoke to the whole class.
"Biological functions of sex.  This -"

Edith interrupted.  "Um, first..."

Jim turned to her.  "Yes?"

"You said, `most obvious'.  What else is there?"

"`Most obvious'?"

"Yes.  You said penis-in-vagina intercourse is the most obvious of -"

"Ah.  Yes.  There are others; some people find it enjoyable to play in
non-penetrative ways that still call for both sexes' equipment.  For
example, I once saw someone use his cock-head as a clit massager; both
people involved seemed to enjoy that, and I've since found I sometimes
do too."  After a moment he added musingly, "...though I'm not sure
whether that really counts as non-penetrative."

Edith started blushing when Jim said "clit massager".  When he stopped
talking, she mumbled, "...okay...carry on..."

Jim resumed speaking to the whole class.  "Where was I?  Oh, yes,
biological functions.  This one is pretty straightforward: in a sense,
sex is fundamentally about reproduction.  Some of the emotional and
social aspects of it border on biology, as we'll discuss when we get to
them."  He paused and looked around the room.  "Why human reproduction
is sexual at all is an interesting topic, but one that we mostly leave
to biologists."

He fell silent and Janice continued.  "Social functions of sex.  These
are many and varied, especially if you use a relatively inclusive
definition of `sex'.  Some of the most important actually turn out to
be emotional.  For example, sex is one of the more important things
that holds together pair-bonds - but the social aspect of that is
actually a social function of the pair-bond, and sex comes into it only
in that it strengthens the pair-bond."

"In our society today, sex is probably more important as a `hot button'
to be invoked when a politician wants knee-jerk emotional support for
something.

[[
....
    o Social functions of sex (finish)
    o Emotional functions of sex
    o Spiritual functions of sex
    o Legal aspects
    o Moral/ethical/religious aspects
]]

"I'd like to talk a little about the lab this weekend."  He smiled
slightly and I blushed, remembering my speculations about what labs for
this course constitued.  "At this point, we are really just trying to
get you used to the notion that it's okay to be sexual.  That it's okay
to be in the presence of others who are being sexual.  Basically, that
sex is okay.  Much more than that at this point would be too much for
many of you, if past classes are any indication."  I could see a few
thoughtful nods around the circle and suddenly realized I was nodding
slightly too.  "For example, I doubt anyone is likely to get
undressed."  He chuckled.

[[
...
]]

Chapter 10: Lab!

[[
....
]]

6017 proved to be in an industrial park.  The building was huge, taking
up the entire square block by itself.  It looked like more or less any
other large industrial-park office building; upon reaching the fourth
floor, I followed the sign reading "415-430" and found #422 with no
trouble.  Upon entering, I found myself in a reception area of sorts,
looking rather like a professional's waiting room.  There was one
person visible, Jim; he was sitting holding a clipboard, on which he
ticked something and nodded towards one of the other two doors.  "Hi,
Sean.  Go right on in."

I did so.  The door closed behind me and I found myself in what really
looked like nothing so much as a large loft-style apartment.  There was
a semi-living-room area where several of the class were gathered,
sitting on sofas and chairs, a few of them talking softly.  As I went
to join them I noticed Janice walking past them towards the door.  I
strolled around briefly, looking at the place.  I couldn't make up my
mind whether it looked more like a very plushly equipped office or a
residential apartment.  After a few minutes of walking around, I simply
sat down to wait until the lab started.

A few more people arrived, then Jim emerged, closing the door carefully
behind him.  He took a sheet of paper off the clipboard he was holding
and handed it - the clipboard - to one of the class, starting it
around.  He raised his voice somewhat and spoke.  "Let's get started."

The few conversations died down.  He continued, "Welcome to our first
lab.  As we mentioned on Wednesday, what we're really trying to do here
is get you used to the notion that you are sexual, and this is okay.
Everyone else in the room is sexual too, and that's just as okay."  He
paused and smiled, looking quickly over the whole room.  "Anyone
feeling sexual and care to show it?"

Nobody moved, except that everyone was looking nervously at everyone
else.  This pause stretched uncomfortably; after what felt like at
least five minutes but probably was no more than 30 seconds, Kim turned
to look into David's face.  He nodded slightly and squeezed her hand.
She let go of his hand and folded her arms behind her head.  Then she
leaned back, leaning a little over the back of the couch she was
sitting on, and tried to smile.  She actually looked more nervous and
worried than anything else.  She started to speak.  "I di..."  Her
voice broke.  She licked her lips nervously and tried again.  "I didn't
wear a bra today."  My eyes flicked to her breasts, seeing how her
posture pressed them against the front of the blouse she was wearing.
Then I saw her nipples clearly evident through the cloth and I flushed
scarlet.  My gaze slid off and darted about, looking for somewhere
"safe" to look.  As my eyes wandered past her face, I noticed she was
blushing vigorously too, but was holding her posture.

After some four or five seconds, Janice spoke up.  "That does look
nice, Kim."  I turned to look at Janice as she spoke.  She was rubbing
one hand over the swell of her own breast.  I couldn't take my gaze off
her for about a second, maybe two, as I flushed even more.  Then I tore
my eyes away, and they swept back to Kim.  Just about then, Kim must
have looked at Janice too; I saw her head turned towards her just as
she gasped and yanked her arms down from behind her head to cross on
her chest, one hand covering each breast.

After about a second, Jim spoke.  "Kim's reactions, which I imagine any
one of you would quite likely share, if you'd dared what she did, her
reactions would likely be yours too."  He paused briefly.  "Yet why?
What really happened here?"  He paused again.  "Kim showed us one way
in which she's sexual.  Janice appreciated this and showed us a little
of how it stirred up her own sexuality."  He paused, a little longer
this time.  "This is exactly what this lab is for."  He paused again.
"Every one of us here tonight is a sexual creature, to one extent or
another.  We are met here to explore that and learn that it can be
appreciated and enjoyed, to learn to appreciate and enjoy it."

Janice chuckled and spoke.  "All of you here are sexual.  You all know
that.  So what's to hide?"

Everyone fell silent and we all looked at one another.  After a long
moment, Eric moved, shifting on the sofa next to me and reaching into
his pants briefly.  When he removed his hand, he was sitting with his
legs parted perhaps sixty degrees, and I could see a distinct bulge
down his left leg.  He said nothing, and once he'd rearranged himself
he sat quietly, though I was sure I saw a slight smile on his face.

After another five or ten seconds, Jim and Janice walked into the
middle of the rough circle we were seated in.  Jim faced the woman to
my right, Janice the next person over.  Janice spoke to the group.
"Two of you have been brave enough to show us a little of your
sexuality."  She spoke then directly to the person she was facing.  "Do
you think you can manage something?"

I can't recall what that person said, nor even who it was, because Jim
then said to the woman next to me - Edith, I believe it was - "How
about you?"  His voice was gentle and he bent his knees until he was
somewhere between kneeling and squatting on the floor, his eye level
about even with hers.  My eyes flicked uncomfortably back and forth
between them.

She smiled and crossed her legs, swinging her free foot rhythmically.
She said "Maybe." and I was surprised at how husky her voice was; as I
looked at her in surprise, I saw her mouth was open an inch or so, and
her tongue was slowly licking her lip.

Jim watched her for a few seconds, then turned to me, inquiring mildly,
"Sean?"

I drew my right leg up onto the sofa, my right ankle on my left knee,
and in truth I had grown hard enough to be almost uncomfortable.  I
brought my right hand up inside my shirt and rubbed my left nipple
gently with my fingertip, finding myself breathing heavily.  I said,
"She makes it easy for me.", nodding towards the person Jim had spoken
with first.  Then my eye caught Cat, who was the second person Janice
had spoken to.  She was using one of those long fingernails of hers to
scratch lightly on Janice's blouse, right over the nipple.  I gasped
softly, my attention yanked by that sight away from what Jim had asked.

My attention was drawn back briefly as Jim moved, turning away from me
to whomever it was on my left.  My attention returned to Cat and
Janice, just as Janice turned from Cat to the next person.  I can't
recall whom it was, because Edith moaned slightly.  I looked back at
her to see that she was running her fingertip around her lip, looking
over towards Janice, presumably watching what Janice and Cat had just
been doing.  She settled back in her chair as Janice moved on, then saw
me looking at her.  She let out a small "eep!" sound and yanked her
hand away from her mouth, suddenly sitting very decorously, almost
primly, blushing beet-red.  I tried to smile, but I'm unsure how well
it worked.  However, her discomfort reinforced mine, and I turned back
to watch the room.  Janice and Jim continued to work their way around
the group.  Helen, sitting across the room from me, caught my eye and
smiled; it gave me a peculiar feeling.  I smiled briefly back.

I don't remember much of the rest, except for one man (Scott, I think
it was), who had been gently kneading his crotch since shortly after
Janice turned to the third person she spoke to.  I remember him
particularly because when Janice got to him, she reached out a hand as
if to touch his hand, stopping short until he removed his hand and
nodded.  She stroked the bulge at his crotch for a moment and as she
touched him, my cock jumped and I heard a small gasp from someone to my
left.  Then she moved on and I had to recover as best I could.

But finally Jim and Janice met at the far side of the room from where
they'd started.  They stood up and turned to one another, just looking
at one another for a long moment.  Then they leaned forward and kissed
one another wetly; after a moment, the kiss was joined by their hands
reaching to each other's crotches and rubbing tenderly.  Despite what
had just been going on, I found myself feeling shocked.  After a second
or two, they broke this off and turned their attention back to the
group.  After a long pause, Janice spoke.  "So, you see, being overtly
sexual doesn't make the world cave in.  Nor does being mildly sexual,
as a handful of you have been, necessarily lead to anything more."

A voice spoke up.  I looked; it was Carrot.  "I'm going to surprise
you."

Jim and Janice both turned to her.  Jim replied, "Surprise us?"

She stood up and faced Jim.  "You said you didn't expect anyone to get
undressed."  She took hold of the hem of her top and lifted it up,
pulling it off.  She was wearing an unremarkable bra underneath it; she
shifted it up over and off her breasts, pulling it off over her head.
Then she undid her pants and shoved them, and any underwear she was
wearing under them, down and off, adding them to the pile of clothes on
her chair.  This left her wearing nothing at all as far as I could see;
she then sat back down, on the clothes she'd piled on her chair.  I
noticed her pubic hair was as flaming red as her head hair and
wondered briefly whether it really _were_ dyed.

I'd been unable to tear my eyes away from her since she started
undressing.  I heard Jim say softly, "Brava, Carrot."

I finally looked away, to Jim and Janice.  They were watching Carrot.
I glanced around the room; everyone seemed to be watching the little
tableau of Carrot, Jim, and Janice.  Janice said to Carrot, "Why?"

Carrot licked her lips and smiled.  "Why not?"  She giggled.
"Seriously, I have an exhibitionistic streak."

"I see.  Well, thank you."

Jim found a vacant chair and sat down.  His hand was kneading his
crotch.  "Thank you, yes."

Janice glanced around the circle.  "Jim seems to be enjoying his
response to what Carrot did...anyone else feel likewise?"

A voice from a part of the room I wasn't looking at said, "You?"  I
glanced over but couldn't see who'd spoken.

Janice turned that way.  "Me?  Well, yes, I find myself responding too,
but I'm here to lead a lab, not to indulge every stray whim.  As Jim
said earlier, unlearning the societal conditioning means being able to
choose.  It doesn't mean choosing the other way just as blindly."

"Jim seems to have chosen."  That I saw the source of; it was David.
But it didn't sound like the same voice.

Jim spoke up.  "I have.  Because my response is more visible" - he
patted his bulging crotch - "than hers, I am usually the one to
acknowledge and enjoy my response and she the one to speak to the
class."

Janice said, "So, if anyone else feels like showing a response, that
would be great."  She looked slowly around the room; on her second scan
she stopped and said, "Ah, thank you."

I followed her gaze.  Helen was brushing one hand across her breast,
looking over at Carrot.  Then I realized Scott, sitting next to her,
was kneading his crotch much as Jim was, also watching Carrot.  I
wondered, briefly, which of them Janice had been thanking.  Then I saw
Eric, past them, rubbing his right thigh; a brief glimpse made it
obvious he had an erection confined by his right pants leg.

Janice held out a hand towards Jim, who stood and slid easily into a
hug with her, kissing deeply.  They seemed to be groping one another a
bit and I heard sloppy kisses from another direction and glanced over
to see Kim and David leaning sideways to one another, kissing too.  I
suddenly realized I was sitting with my legs almost 90 degrees apart,
with as hard an erection as I think I've ever had.

Janice and Jim let go of one another and Janice ran her gaze around the
room.  "Those of you who haven't done much yet are probably starting to
feel some kind of pressure to do so.  There's no requirement.  We're
here to challenge you to push yourselves a little past your comfort
zone.  Not a lot."

I was already somewhat out of my comfort zone; sitting with a huge
hard-on in front of a roomful of strangers being explicitly, if only
mildly, sexual was definitely not something I was used to.

Jim started speaking when Janice stopped.  "For some of you, I daresay,
simply staying here is about all you can manage right now.  That's OK.
At the other extreme, we have Carrot here."  He nodded in her
direction, turning to address the other side of the room.  "Most of you
are probably somewhere in between."

Janice picked up the thread.  "Jim and I are likely to go further than
most of you are ready to go.  This is not because anyone `should' do
that, but simply because this lab is all about getting used to other
people being sexual.  The two of us are most likely more comfortable
with being sexual than anyone else here, so, for the moment, we will be
providing the `other people being sexual'.  Eventually, we hope, the
rest of you will feel comfortable enough letting your sexuality show
that we won't be needed in that respect."

Jim stretched out on his back on the carpet in the middle of the rough
ring of seats.  Janice sat cross-legged next to him.  She spoke to us.
"Here, for example, we are going to enjoy one another's sexuality a
little.  This man" - she patted Jim's chest fondly - "has had his
sexuality awakened, some, by what's happened."  She rested her hand
gently on his crotch-bulge.  "I like the feel of a nice hard cock, even
if it's inside pants."

Jim spoke up.  "And I like her touch.  So..."

Janice started petting Jim's cock-bulge, gently, fondly.  After a few
minutes she spoke, musingly.  "Another thing which our society teaches
is that minor sexual behaviour always implies major sexual behaviour.
Societal expectations say we would never be doing this unless it were
as a prelude to a fuck."

I finally managed to tear my eyes away from them and glance around the
circle.  It seemed we were all as riveted by what they were doing as I
was - except for Kim and David, who were watching like the rest of us,
but each had a hand kneading the other's crotch too.

After some time - a minute? fifteen minutes? I couldn't tell - Janice
and Jim switched positions, her lying down and him sitting next to her.
He rested his hand on her crotch, rubbing lightly, reminding me of
nothing so much as petting a cat - and then I stifled giggles as the
thought occurred to me that he _could_ be said to be petting a pussy.

Some minutes later Carrot got up and went and knelt on Janice's other
side.  She said, "May I?" and I saw her hand was maybe six inches away
from Jim's.  Janice looked up at Carrot's face, then took the proffered
hand in her own and placed it squarely on her crotch.  Jim started
gently petting Janice's breast instead as Carrot started kneading and
petting Janice's crotch.  Janice laid her hands on their hips, one on
Jim's and one on Carrot's, not moving, just resting there.

After some further time Janice sighed deeply, patted Jim and Carrot,
and sat up.  "Thank you.  That was lovely."  She raised her voice and
started speaking to the class.  "If you're like most of our classes,
you people could hardly tear your eyes away from us."  She paused and
looked around the room.  "We don't have a lot of time left today" - I
glanced at the clock on the wall and realized the little tableau with
Jim and Janice and Carrot had taken far longer than I'd realized - "so
about all we have left is to give you homework assignments."  She
smiled.  "So to speak."

She fell silent and Jim started speaking.  "This is not homework in the
sense you are likely used to from school.  There's no assignment to
turn in and get graded on.  But, like most classes, the more you
practice outside of class, the more you'll get out of class.  So, your
assignment is to stretch your comfort zone a little."

"Maybe you're one of those people who never learnt to masturbate.  Give
it a try."

"Maybe you always masturbate in bed with the light off.  Try it
somewhere else and watch yourself."

"Maybe you have a sex partner but you've never really explored your
partner's body.  If your lover is up for it, give one another a really
thorough inspection."

"Maybe you've never watched porn.  Try some - it exists for just about
every taste."

"Maybe none of those apply.  Or maybe you've thought of something else.
Use your imagination."

He stood up; a moment later, Janice did too.  They walked out the door
and it closed behind them.

We looked around at one another.  Carrot got up and startd putting her
clothes back on...and David and Kim left precipitously; I barely caught
a glimpse of them before the were out of sight through the door.

Someone - Eric, I think - went over to Carrot and said simply, "Thank
you".  Before she could reply he turned and left - unhurriedly, but not
lingering.

There was a general trend towards the door.  As the last of us emerged
into the reception-area room, Jim got up, looked the inner room over,
and locked it, trailing us as we left.

Chapter 11: Homework

I don't remember the walk home.  But I had an email waiting, from
Chris.  It said simply, "Phone me, hon?".  I picked up the phone and
was halfway through dialing before I thought to wonder why I responded
so automatically...but I decided to carry on and finished dialing.

"Hello."

"Hi, Chris.  It's Sean."

"Hi!  So how was school?"

I laughed.  "Shaking-up."

"I daresay.  That _is_ kinda the point."

"True."

"Anyhow, what I really wanted to say is, I imagine they gave you the
usual homework assignment.  And--"

"Yes."  I didn't actually know how "usual" it was, but it seemed
likely.

"--and I would like to invite you to phonesex with me."  She paused;
when I didn't say anything she continued, "This is an invitation, not a
request."  Then she fell silent.

The silence stretched.  I felt somewhat shocked and simultaneously
wanting to reply "yes!!" and wanting to retreat back into my familiar
shell.

"No, I'm not...what am I saying?"  I sighed.  "We're supposed to
stretch our comfort zone."

"That _is_ the point."

"So, I accept your invitation."

"Thank you."  She paused briefly.  "When?  Is now good?"

I laughed again.  "Before I get cold feet?"

"Well, I daresay you're not entirely comfortable with it; would you
prefer to get used to the idea or do you think you'd be more likely to
get cold feet?"

"I'm...not sure."  I mulled it over.  "What the heck.  Yes, now."

"Yay!"

"So...."  My voice trailed off uncertainly.  I was thinking something
vague along the lines of "so how do we do this?" but couldn't quite
articulate it.

"You've never done this before, have you."  No, I hadn't.  Before I
could say anything, she continued.  "You just relax and let me do
everything.  Are you sitting down?  Lying down?"

"Sitting, at the moment."  I was in the living room.

"Is that how you want it?"

"Maybe lying down would be better?"

"Okay.  So, go lie down...?"

"I'll have to change phones."

"Okay, shall I call right back?"

"That works."

"Okay.  Talk with you in a moment."

"Right."  I hung up and headed for my bed.  Halfway there the phone
started to ring.  When I got to the bed I answered the phone there.
"Hello."

As expected, it was Chris's voice.  "There.  Better?"

I lay down.  "Now lying down."

She chuckled.  "Good.  So just let me describe what I would do if I
were there."

I giggled.

"First, I think, I'd give you someone to look at.  Imagine me in a
tank-top and jeans cut off just barely low enough to be decent.

"Ooo."

"So, I grab the bottom of the tank-top and peel it up and off, and you
can see I'm wearing no bra."

"Ooo!"

"I'll stand there, caressing my tits, playing with the nipples."

I didn't say anything.  My cock was getting hard - uncomfortably hard,
since I was still fully dressed.  I reached down and undid the
waistband of my pants, rearranging my erection to point up in front of
my belly.

"Then I'll unsnap the waist of my cutoffs.  One thumb in either side
and I start shifting my hips from side to side, working the cutoffs
down gradually."

My cock bobbed with my pulse, about as stiff as it ever had been.

"A few shifts like that and you can see I'm going commando."

"You're what?"

"It's a fantasy; I can do that if I like."

"No, I mean, what's that mean?"

"Oh, going commando?  Means `wearing no underwear'.  You can see I've
got nothing on under the cutoffs."

"Oooooooh...."

"As my pussy-hair comes into view you can see it is as blonde as my
head hair.  It takes only a minute or so before the cutoffs slip down
and I kick them aside."

I was panting; it must have been audible, because she said, "Getting
turned on, my sweet?  Feel free to describe wnat you're doing while I'm
doing what I describe.  Or describe the Sean that's lying on the bed
listening to me on the phone."

"Well, I think by this point I would have found my pants
rather..confining."

"I'm sure you can fix that."

"Well, yes, I would have."

"I can just imagine your..ooh!..cock freed from its confines.  Ohhh..."

"Watching your show has got it rather hard."

"I bet.  I'd be standing there, wearing nothing at all, watching your
cock pulse.  Oh, that'd make me start fingering myself."

"Ooh, oh my."  It was difficult to not start stroking myself, but I was
trying to stay in the scenario.  "That's lovely."

"You like watching me finger myself?  Like watching my fingers slide
into my squishy wet pussy?"

"Ohhh yeah."  It was almost a groan.

"I can think of something else I'd like to slide there.  In fact, I can
_see_ something else I'd like there.  I'll stand beside your bed, with
my legs wide and my fingers inside me, then you can watch me take my
hand out of my cunt and start stroking your cock with it.  All slippery
with my pussy juices."

That was enough; I started pumping my cock with my own hand.  "I'm not
sure I'd last very long with you doing that."

"I wouldn't want you to `last'.  The idea is for you to cum for me."

"I'd say you're going about it right."

"And when my hand starts to dry out enough to get sticky, back to my
pussy to pick up another load of lubrication.  Then back to your cock.
And then I'd use my spare hand to put your hand on my pussy.  Finger
me, sweetie..."

The thought of that did it.  I came, strongly, all over my hand and
belly.  Chris must have recognized the sound of my breathing; she
started encouraging me.  "Yes, lover, cum all over my hand.  Spurt for
me.  Get my hand all messy with that lovely hot cum.  I'll keep pumping
your cock until you've squirted it alllll out for me."

Eventually I wound down.  "Ohhh.  That was lovely."

"I concur.  Now, my dear, we have a choice."

"A choice?"

"You're young enough you can probably get hard again soon.  Would you
like to continue this conversation?  Or would you rather call it quits
now?"

"Continue?  Chris, there's no need for that."

"Need?  Who said anything about need?  I've had fun doing this; I'd
like to do it more."

I giggled.  "In for a penny, in for a pound."

"Okay, then, I'll climb up on the bed and straddle you.  Lower my
crotch right onto yours, so my lips slide across that now-soft cock
that spurted so gorgeously for me."

"You make me wish I weren't so soft."

"That will happen in due time.  I'm just enjoying the feel of your
cock, even soft, on my pussy.  Oh yes, I'm rubbing myself slowly back
and forth over you."

"And I'm thrusting my hips back at you.  That does feel good."

"I'm holding your cock against me with my hand, rubbing it back and
forth across my pussy.  And my other hand is rubbing my tits."

I moaned softly.

"I'm rubbing your cock between my cuntlips, using it as a clit
massager.  Your cum is so nice and slippery."

The images her words were spinning were beginnning to stir my cock back
into life.  "I think my cock is beginning to wake up again."

"Excellent.  I'll swing myself off you and lean over and suck you into
my mouth."

"Ohhh..."

"Oh yes.  Such a nice cock.  Such a _suckable_ cock.  Running my tongue
all around the head, bobbing up and down...mmm.  Get all nice and hard
for me.  I love a stiff cock.  Ooh, I'll take your hand and put it on
my pussy.  Yes, finger me while I suck you.  Feel how wet I am.
Watching you spurt, feeling you stiffen in my mouth, feel how wet
that's made me."

I was now stroking myself, using my cum from before as lubricant.
"Ohhh, Chris...."

Her voice took on a musing tone.  "The problem with this is, you don't
actually know what this feels like.  Don't know what it feels like to
fuck a mouth.  To finger a pussy.  You said you'd watched some porn,
but never seen a real live woman up close."

"No...."

"How about something you can imagine better, maybe?  How about you sit
up and stroke yourself, while I lie back and make myself cum?  While
you watch?  While you get off?  I want you to spurt again..."

I chuckled.  "I'm feeling as though I could."

"Oh, good!  Okay, sit yourself up and I'll snuggle up close so you can
watch me finger myself.  Watch me make my cunt cum for you.  You can
even cum all over my pussy if you like.  Watch me finger myself with
your cum."

I was panting heavily, getting close to cumming again.  Her words were
like little erotic charges in my brain, turning me on more and more.

"Yes, lover, lean forward, let me see that cock spurt onto me, let me
feel that cum on me..."  She sounded as though she was getting turned
on by this too.  "I want...want you to cum...yessss...cum for me, cum
on me, let me see that cock squirt, spurt your cum all over my twat."

That did it.  I came again.  She kept talking.  "Yes, sweetie, that's
right, cum for me, pump it all out, spurt on me, let me feel your cum
on me, get me all sloppy messy, yes darling, that's so good..."

I felt drained and collapsed back.  "Ohhh...."

"Watch me rub my clittie, watch me finger-fuck myself, oh, your cum is,
is so, oh yes, oh FUCK!"  She gasped and screamed, cumming too.

I murmured softly, "Sweetie..."

Her breathing gradually slowed and she finally said, "Thank you, Sean."

"I think _I_ should be thanking _you_.  You're such a help with my
homework."

She laughed softly.  "I'll have to help you with your homework a lot
more at this rate."

"I'll most cheerfully accept your help.  If this is any example I'll
enjoy it tremendously."

"I must confess to rather liking it myself."

I didn't say anything.  After a moment, she continued.  "Anyhow, my
dear, I should probably get going.  Let me know if you'd like further
help with your homework."

"I would, though I'm not sure what more to do."

"Think about it.  I'll do likewise.  Perhaps in a day or two we'll've
thought of something."

"Sounds good."

"Okay.  Take care of yourself!"

"You too.  Bye."

I lay there mulling this all over for some time - to, I must admit,
very little effect.  Would I actually have done what we just
roleplayed?  Would I have wanted to?  I didn't know.  Why was I so
ready to acquiesce when she asked me to phonesex with her?  Did I do it
right?

I didn't hear from Chris at all the next day.  But Monday evening,
shortly after I got home from work, she called.

"Hello."

"Hi, hon.  It's me."

I knew her voice well enough I didn't need more than that.  "Hi!"

"How goes?"

"Oh, it goes.  Nothing particularly notable."

"Done any more homework?"

I chuckled.  "No.  Why?  You want to help me more?"

"I figured I'd offer."

"Offer what?  Another session like Saturday's?"

"We could do that.  But I'd also be happy to do other things with you."

"Other things?"

"Well, for example, you said you'd never seen a real live pussy up
close.  I could fix that for you."

My cock started to respond to the thought.  "I..."

When I didn't continue after a second or two, Chris continued.
"You...?  This is an offer, not a request."  She paused.  "I'm going to
hazard a guess that part of you wants to jump at the chance and part of
you is uncomfortable at the possibility of something so new."

"Um, yeah..."

"Well, you'll need to decide which voice wins.  But remember what they
said about stretching your comfort zone.  And also remember that you
can call it quits anytime.  Whether we're on the phone or in person."

She fell silent and I thought for a moment.  I couldn't come up with a
rational reason to decline the invitiation, and eventually said, "OK,
let's.  But I may have to take you up on calling it quits."

"I know.  That's OK."

"OK.  When and where?"

"Well, probably either my place or yours."

"Probably."

"Mine?  Or yours?  Perhaps you'd prefer to come here, so you can just
leave, instead of having to kick someone else out, if you decide to
bail?"

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that.  If I decide to bail I wouldn't need
to kick you out, just stop what we're doing."

"Your call."

"Mmm.  C'mon over here."

"Where's `there'?"

"7297 Oaks.  #7.  Ring 4-7-7-1."

She singsonged, "See you shortly!" and hung up.

Chapter 12: Exploration

It was probably less than half an hour when the phone rang and it was
her at the entryway.  I buzzed her in and it was only moments until she
knocked at the door.

"Hi!"

"Hi, m'dear."  She stepped inside as I held the door for her, then
closed it after her.

"Welcome to my humble abode."

She looked around.  "Looks nice to me."

"You're too kind."

She leaned back against the wall next to the door.  "So, would you like
to dive right into exploring, or would you rather wait?"

I blushed, remembering what she was here for, and couldn't reply for a
moment.  She laid a hand on my shoulder and said gently, "I _am_ here
to push your comfort zone.  Well, in part."

My voice was just a whisper.  "I know."

"Am I pushing it too far?  Or too fast?"

"Well.  I'm not sure.  Probably not.  I'm just, well, I'm not used to
this."

"Only one way to get used to it."

My voice was starting to work again.  "I know."

"If you want to call it off, that's entirely OK.  Now, or later."

"I know.  I'm not calling it off.  Well, not now, at least."

"Okay, then."  She stood up and walked over to a chair and, as she
grabbed the bottom edge, I noticed she was wearing a tank-top and
realized that was what she'd described herself as wearing when she'd
phonesexed with me on Saturday.  A quick glance showed me she was not
wearing the cutoffs she'd mentioned, but close - her shorts came maybe
a third of the way down from hips to knees.  She peeled the tank-top up
and off and, sure enough, she was wearing no bra under it.

She dropped the tank-top on the chair and wriggled, making her breasts
shake very nicely.

I laughed.  "Are you trying to replicate our conversation from day
before yesterday?"

She laughed in return.  "Well, perhaps a little.  What do you think so
far?"

"I...I'm going to find my pants confining, as I said then, at this
rate."

"Good!  I want you to find me erotic."  She wriggled again.  "It's
maybe a bit much to ask for you to not feel self-conscious about it,
but please don't feel you have to hide that reaction from me."  She
paused for a moment.  "Even if you aren't quite up to undressing
yourself, it's not as if I'm going to react badly to your hard-on."

"I...know...it just feels...so..."

"So against your societal conditioning?"

"Well put."

"It is.  But we're both adults; our society does permit such things,
provided we're not out in public scaring the horses."

I chuckled nervously.  "I know, I know, I just..."

When I didn't continue, she supplied, "...just still feel a bit
uncomfortable."

"Yes."

"And not just because your pants are confining that gorgeous cock."

I blushed anew, even as I laughed.  "Not just that, no."

"Well, let's see if we can re-condition your conditioning.  Would you
like me to carry on here, or over there" - she nodded to the couch
across the room - "or maybe you'd rather repair to the bedroom?"

"Whatever you think best."

"Maybe the bedroom, then?  I'd like to be able to lie back
comfortably."

I pointed to the bedroom door.  "In there, then."

She picked up her tank-top and carried it thataway.  I followed.  She
patted the bed.  "You just sit yourself down and watch."  Once I sat
down she raised both hands over her head and stre-e-e-etched, arching
her back enough to push her breasts out very nicely, making my flagging
erection re-stiffen.  Then she brought her arms down, wriggling as she
did so; the way her breasts jiggled went straight to my cock.

I found myself uncomfortably hard; remembering what she had said, I
tried to pretend she wasn't there and reached into my pants, adjusting
my erection to point down my right leg.  As I finished this she
murmured, "Oooh, yum!" and I noticed she was watching me do that.  I
found myself blushing more.

Chris cupped her breasts in her hands, jiggling them.  "You like them?"

I just giggled nervously.

"Your cock seems to like them.  Ooh, I love turning you on.  If you
react this nicely to my tits, I can hardly wait to see what happens
when you see my pussy."

I'd managed to forget that was what she had started out to do.  I
reddened even more, if possible.

"Ohhhh..."  She sighed breathily and started squeezing her breasts,
flicking the nipples with her fingertips.  For a few moments she seemed
to have almost forgotten I was there, eyes closed as she played with
her nipples.  Then her eyes opened and locked with mine.  "Mmm, showing
myself to you is so exciting.  You're so..._appreciative_."

I grabbed my cock through my pants leg, adjusting it slightly.  "I'm a
little surprised you're comfortable doing this."

"I'm comfortable with you.  You don't provoke the fears our society
says a woman should feel showing her body off to a man; you're so sweet
and kind I find I'm not afraid of you presuming to take more liberties
than you should.  I'm ready to go a lot farther with you than I think
you are with me, that could be part of it."

"I've...this is...nobody has ever done anything like this for me."

"That's part of it."  She stopped for a moment and suddenly something
changed; she no longer looked so ultra-sexy and just looked like a
woman who happened to be topless.  She came over and sat next to me on
the bed.  "Would you like to investigate my tits more closely?  Feel
them?  Kiss them?  Suck them?"

"Ohh, Chris..."

She took my hand and put it on her breast.  "Go ahead.  Feel them.
Squeeze them.  Play with them."  She turned, sitting sidways so she was
mostly facing me.

I took her breasts in my hands.  They felt wonderful.  If my cock could
have gotten any harder, it would have.  I started squeezing them
gently, kneading them in my hands.

"Yes, sweetie, squeeze them harder.  Pull them.  Pinch the nipples."

I started squeezing harder, pulling a little on them.  She arched her
back and started panting breathily, "...yes...yes...oh god, yes..."

I rolled one of the nipples between my fingers.  She gasped and
shuddered...and lay slowly back, turning on the edge of the bed, lying
across my lap.  I started kneading her breasts gently.  She moaned
softly and murmured, "...so wonderful..."

I started experimenting, a little at first, pulling, pressing; this
seemed to turn her on more and more.  I pinched both nipples, pulling
them gently, and she arched her back even more.  "Oh fuck, _yes_,
lover, don't stop..."  I pinched harder and pulled more.  Her moans
built, louder and louder, and then she almost shouted "OH GOD!" and her
whole body tensed for at least a second or two.  I kept pinching and
pulling until she took my wrists in her hands and moved them away.
"Sorry, dear."

"No, sweetheart, I'm just too sensitive just after cumming."

"That was...you came?"

"Yes, lover, that was an orgasm.  Only the third time I've had that
happen just from my tits."

I felt...proud of myself, actually.  "I'm glad I could give you that."

"Would you suck my tits?  Just gently, nothing vigorous, but right now
that's what I'd like."  She swung around, sitting up, and patted her
leg.  "Lay your head here and just take my tit in your mouth."

I lay down, head on her leg, and she presented her nipple to my mouth.
I drew it into my mouth gently, sucking and licking tenderly.  "Oh,
yes, Sean, that's just perfect."

I must have laid there, sucking and licking her nipple, for at least
several minutes.  Finally she straightened up.  "Oh, that was
marvelous.  I think I'm going to have to let you suck my tits a lot
more, sometime.  But I think we have more exploration planned."

"We do...?"  It came out as though I weren't really sure whether I
wanted it to be a question or a stement.

"Well, I thought we did.  Unless you don't want to go any further for
now?"

"Further?"

"There's more to me to explore than just my tits."

That's right, she'd started out talking about my exploring her pussy.
I started to sit up.  She laid her hand on my shoulder, stopping me,
and said, "Question."

"Yes?"

"I came over here for you to explore my body, to get used to what at
least one woman is like."

"...yes?  And?"

"But this is turning me on and I'm finding myself wanting to grope you.
With some people I know I would just go ahead.  But I don't know you
well enough to know whether that would be crossing too much of a line."

"Grope me?"

"Play with your nipples.  Squeeze that glorious cock I see filling your
pants leg."  As an afterthought she added, "Kiss you.".

"Chris, no, Judy, you can go right ahead."

"With?"

"With?  With any of it.  This is, oh, I don't know, nobody has ever
made me feel as good as you have.  I can't imagine whatever you want to
do won't feel even better.  Do whatever you want with me."

She smiled tenderly.  "Always remember, if I start to go too far you
need only tell me."

"I...I know."

She smiled and started unbuttoning my shirt.  When she was done she
started playing gently with my nipples with her fingertips.  I groaned
deeply as her touch went straight to my crotch.  I lay there with both
knees raised and my cock as hard as it had ever been, confined by my
pants leg, wondering if I would come from her touch.

After a few minutes she slid out from under my head and stood up.  I
lay there, watching her, as she undid her shorts and started to work
them down over her hips.  They moved so little at a time that I am sure
she was putting on a show for me.  I found myself panting heavily as
her pussy-hair started to come into view, and, some minutes later, she
was standing before me gloriously naked, her feet planted a couple of
feet apart as if she wanted her legs parted - which she probably did.
I murmured, "Oh, God, Chris...so beautiful..."

"Thank you."

"I feel as though I may cum just from looking at you."

"Thank you.  That's quite the compliment.  But don't you want to take
your pants off, then?  Don't want to have to wash your cum out of
them."

"Um, I...maybe..."

"Still a little shy about letting me see your cock bare?  That's OK."

"No, I just...I don't know..."

"If you prefer, I could finish undressing you."

"I'm not...well...actually, yes, please."

She helped me take my shirt the rest of the way off, then undid my
pants and started working them, together with my undershorts, down over
my hips.  My cock sprang free as it was released and she licked her
lips and said, "Glorious.".  It was only moments before I was as naked
as she was, lying there on the bed with my cock straight up towards my
belly.

"So, would you like me to lie back for you to investigate?  Or stand
here?  Or what?"

"However you like, dear."

"Hmm."  She took a step or two, until she was standing a foot or so
from my head at the edge of the bed, her legs spread almost ninety
degrees.  "Okay."  She suddenly giggled.  "You know the idiom `look but
don't touch'?  In this case it's `look and please do touch'."

I feasted my eyes on the sight of the first real live pussy I'd seen,
reaching timidly up with one hand to run a finger along her lips.  She
moaned as I touched her.  So I brought my other hand up and stroked
both lips; she moaned more and started thrusting her hips at me.  "Yes,
lover, touch me, touch me more..."

As she moved, my fingers slipped between her lips and I started,
literally, exploring.  First the lower end of her lips, getting my
fingers all slippery.  Then rubbing farther up, finally reaching the
upper end.  As I started back down, pressing a little deeper, I found a
small bump - the first time I ever touched a clit.  She shrieked
"YES!!" and her body tensed up again the way it had before; I rubbed
gently, figuring that if a little contact made her cum, more contact
might make her cum more.  It was a good guess; her hips bucked sharply
back and forth and she collapsed forward over me, holding herself up
over me with her arms but, from the looks of it, only barely.

...and I suddely realized I was about to cum too.  My hips bucked and
my cock started to spurt - and she pounced, taking my cock into her
mouth and sucking on me as I came, came, probably, harder than I ever
had before.  Once I was drained she lifted her mouth off of me and
stood up, licking her lips and smiling down at me, and murmured, "Thank
you."

"Thank _me_?  Dear, thank _you_."

"Yes, thank you.  Thank you for letting me this close to you.  Thank
you for making me cum.  Twice.  Thank you for cumming for me - cumming
_in_ me, even if only in my mouth.  Thank you for giving me permission
in advance that let me suck you like that."

"Nobody's ever...I've never..."

"First person you've ever shared sex with, I think you said as much a
while ago."

"Well, in meatspace, at least.  Unless you count watching Jim and
Janice at the school."

"Do you like it?"

"Silly question!  This is...I don't have any words strong enough for
how wonderful this is."

"Thank you."  She sat down on the bed next to my head.  "Would you like
to continue exploring me?  Or is this enough to keep you satisfied for
the moment?"

"Perhaps in a few minutes."

She sat there in silence, stroking my hair gently.  Finally she said,
"Sean?"

"Yes?"

"I would like more sex with you.  A lot more.  But since this is your
first time, I imagine you are in no shape to make a sane and sober
decision on whether you want us to get that involved."

"Way I feel now...yeah, you're probably right.  Right now I want to get
as involved as you'll let me."

"I suspected as much.  And I don't tell you `no'.  But I am not going
to let you commit to anything when you're this swept away."

"Thank you.  And, yes, I believe I would like to continue exploring."

She rolled over, lying back on the bed, arms spread wide, knees drawn
up and also spread wide, her pussy open to me.  "Explore all you like."

I lay down between her legs and started looking her over, touching
experimentally.

Chapter 13: More lab
















Chapter 12: xxxx
Chapter 12: xxxx
Chapter 12: xxxx
Chapter 12: xxxx
Chapter 12: xxxx
Chapter 12: xxxx
Chapter 12: xxxx
Chapter 12: xxxx

---- begin outline sketch

-- More classes and labs, going further each time.

-- Not sure how to work story into it.  Perhaps some early class should
  include a request that students that feel up to it at the time write
  up their experiences with the school as a form of feedback or
  something.

Sean is in his early-mid twenties, born early '70s.
Judy/ChrisL is in her late twenties, born late '60s.

Story is set in 1996:
Fri May 24	"late May" - beginning
Fri Jun  7	"within two weeks" - first bombshell
Fri Jun 14	"next week or so" - talking with ChrisL about sex
Fri Jun 14	"after about a week" - phone call
Fri Jun 14	"Later that day" - brief online conversation
Sat Jun 15	"next morning" - walk past sex shop
Sun Jun 16	"Next day" - no work, ChrisL offers to meet
Mon Jun 17	"next day" - first meeting
Thu Jun 20	comic book at work
Fri Jun 21	visit sex shop
Sun Jun 23	visit school for the first time
Wed Jun 26	phone school
Thu Jun 27	interview with the school, register
Mon Jul  1	host D&D group, finally gc pamphlet
Wed Jul 24	First class
Sat Jul 27	Skipped lab
Wed Jul 31	Second class
Sat Aug  3	First lab
Mon Aug  5	Chris visits

        June                    July                    August
 S  M Tu  W Th  F  S     S  M Tu  W Th  F  S      S  M Tu  W Th  F  S
                   1        1  2  3  4  5  6                  1  2  3
 2  3  4  5  6  7  8     7  8  9 10 11 12 13      4  5  6  7  8  9 10
 9 10 11 12 13 14 15    14 15 16 17 18 19 20     11 12 13 14 15 16 17
16 17 18 19 20 21 22    21 22 23 24 25 26 27     18 19 20 21 22 23 24
23 24 25 26 27 28 29    28 29 30 31              25 26 27 28 29 30 31
30

Monday - D&D group meets in the evening, rotating host duties
	D&D group: Carlos, others?
Wednesday - class in the evening
Thursday - weekly shipment arrives at comics shop
Saturday - lab in the late afternoon

Class consists of:
	Instructors: Janice (Undermarr), Jim (Powell)
	Class: Mike, Edith, Helen, (Sean), Rachel, Ed, Cat [Helen],
		Cathy, Sue, Eric, Ann, Kim, David, Dave, Carrot, Scott,
		Joker [Jim], Gail.
	Notes:
		Mike, Helen, Ann: act shy at introductions.
		Kim & David: couple
		Janice is 39 years old, been at this "nearly 20 years"
		Edith: light, clear voice
		Ed: "plump"
		Carrot: redhead
		Joker: card tricks
		Cat: wears long false fingernails
		Gail: tall and thin, small nose, oddly deep-set eyes
		Helen: handshake is "a little weak"
			thinks Gail looks quite attractive

Home is north and a little west of here (7297 Oaks, #7), near corner of
	Kennedy and Oaks
ChrisL/Judy lives about 20 minutes' walk from Sean's place
Initial school POP is at 1447 Broadhead (A)
Interview/classes at 124 Highland (B)
Labs at 6017 Jefferson #422 (C)

             Jefferson     Nixon      Lincoln      Adams
                 |           |           |           |
                 |           |           |           |
                 |           |           |           |
                 |           |           |       A   |
  Broadhead -----+-----------+-----------+-----------+----- Broadhead
                 |           |           |           |
                 |           |           |           |
                 |           |           |           |
                 |           |           |           |
    Orchard -----+-----------+-----------+-----------+----- Orchard
                 |           |           |           |
                 |           |           |           |
                 |      -----+--.       /            |
                 |       B   |   \     /             |
                 |           |    \   /   Hig        +----- Mitchell
                 |           |     `-+-----. h       |
                 |           |              \ l      |
                 |           |       park    | a     |
                 |           |               | n     |
      Foote -----+-----------+               | d     |
                 |           |               |       |
                 |           |              /        |
                 |           |             |         |
    Longbow -----+-----------+-------------+---------+----- Longbow
                  \           \            |         |
                   \           \           |         |
                    \           \           \        |
                     \           \           \       |
                      \           \           |      |
       Ninth ----------+-----------+----------+------+----- Ninth
                       |           |                 |
                       |C          |                 |
                       |           |                 |
                       |           |                 |
      Eighth ----------+-----------+-----------------+----- Eighth

Logo in PostScript:

	%%BoundingBox: 110 110 310 310
	200 200 translate
	.5 .5 1 setrgbcolor
	0 setlinecap 0 setlinejoin 20 setlinewidth
	100 10 moveto 100 100 lineto 10 100 lineto
	100 100 moveto 0 0 lineto
	stroke
	1 .5 .5 setrgbcolor
	-90 0 moveto 90 0 lineto 0 -90 moveto 0 90 lineto stroke
	showpage

Rough ASCII-graphics rendition (R=red, B=blue)

            B B B B B B
          R         B B
          R       B   B
          R     B     B
          R   B       B
          R B         B
R R R R R R R R R R R
          R
          R
          R
          R
          R

200x200 PPM images, each processed with bzip2|btoa:

On a black background:

xbtoa Begin
6<\%_0gSqh;csMH3G\bq3EcC_&3p5AJ3X*2"J.bTbAEM4:dkq+`"6It#YL'VRZa>j'U"^0dD
[?d<,+64H;%/O2$e"BfS-V/fgT_7[T-AM#0K;D,@He8<Fo11)-BUc@8l%PLc$5g<"5iC_PYI
&a[XF-a;ZR,Bd'hq[%qP2.D[^;Ad$fAXX;dg2BA6d'V^6`Tlm)e'W.)tVb!7jV+M't&q`e;)
]K0![#)0W#ALR!/Z-ogC"QL$[+\66Kdp@PRT`llTI9q8"%jA<Yh6(QBTm,s("tQHaP'ii/Z%
)?JO?XW`2;%`Z4gdoA;b+*dXu5,[#!A6%A6os9rV'+'5EZ7.bFi4K4.,V,A@^+6#<AUV+lc8
$8s;K"(G8H-!M*7@S='AWWeZ@g)D>*ZDFjCRjQ7aCf>$$2N=J?[3ie1lB]l,TeSDqQssld`G
I*(WkrSPfUE!q<XW;OQGB"U%Ks_H0a^fc,,u@8M(\oU\uJ/=U+,5(766N`lj4C[JM9?o16GF
F&Ib(.',E$R/.>^^?00.!8#T-37`qf7Po-en@_e0/9GF5PKHaet.'+i#8u2XaJ;U8A.4JU'M
n(%%-qFONS@/Ct
xbtoa End N 471 1d7 E 47 S c591 R 5664360a

On a white background:

xbtoa Begin
6<\%_0gSqh;d#CJ&\A/1?WmF0&3p5AJ3X*2"WcU$"]._m+G2!`K-h^n-6Q#TM6oODWd6!O&9
ITE];:/hKe$'JOIH]6_e@a^NMC1@2GKBGfeuQY75YfKWl78t)C1W%Kl$ut95%%qQH7``!OQ\
mD%^Yc_d]a&e4lr9@VfkE@pps?2G7VeVTWNtasPMQ2Q5>H,hbZ=>8mZS@SMZJ<8-%XXf.^cR
jk[SCtTJ4-JM,"2VJgX-=Ue'$*Ybn-%]l3<*1>;"A*f;,!RP$SAc_70e6qG&STZ=;N#:T2B]
FP>6QU9V6HoPOuAIB71G'LJSG@GfG*&:eL?cH7C>jH9NEQ9MV1^\9Jllg95-:10Zd:1QGhF?
_]_\\g-iAG>:!3YUtJU'5rMW#P"*ke@7+c1CeC/s[O>>oQGTK'$J6Y@P-'hHBL?N+)^I##<7
r!E7%5T!P+uSZg.6$Z2@+-!,A;e<Wgc>Pd$&/MZrClk)bCL<6Y`:I<C:1&@]F5Z2@28b2AI/
FNMM<N6YSijW&Q4?aAS2K<=3qsFJT[3V2C]F9*.dhZrjW7(8Ad"PZnGB[YcOC2+8BS<J[:bY
p1!K77IT@7atV)BbZ<!.YqY>U*5ah4=ZR3^Z5_OG63UOYD(bo:)"s"H%^(N
xbtoa End N 508 1fc E 2 S cdca R 318e5084