Polite Society

Sociology students take at least one course in social deviance; I took that course as well. Now, many years later, I am a social deviant writing sexually explicit stories, and you, dear readers, are being socially deviant as well. You see, what we do on explicit web sites is still outside the boundaries of socially acceptable behavior. Even though the boundaries are much more broad in contemporary society, the content of these stories is the imaginative fantasy of the writer and most often a depiction of behavior in which polite society does not participate.

However, many people function in polite society while harboring a dark socially deviant side. Such is the case with 57-year-old Sean. Sean is in a sexless marriage with a woman just a couple years younger. Sean is very much a normal man, fit, average height of about six feet two inches, 190 pounds, no gray hair, and pleasant to look at according to Trish. Sean is a freelance ad writer and graphic artist who works from home.

Trish is 25 years old and the adopted daughter of Sean's wife, adopted before Sean married Trish's adopted mother. Her mother spoiled Trish; Trish only works part time at a clothing store for clothes discounts, and is very petite. Trish is about five feet one inch, weighs maybe 110 pounds, and has dark hair and dark eyes. Trish is Asian, therefore has slightly dark complexion. She probably fills a 34A bra cup, has a waist of about 23 inches, and hips that are around 34. Sean likes petite women and Trish is easy to look at.

Sean and Trish have a good relationship but Trish's adopted mother does everything to keep Trish at a distance. She seems to want Trish and Sean separated. She thinks Sean is deviant enough to have an affair with Trish. She fabricated Sean's fantasy and keeps telling Trish how evil Sean is. Trish and Sean do have find time most days to talk about the pressures they both experience.

With introductions of the two main characters complete, this story shifts from a third person narrative to first person told by Sean.

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It is a warm summer afternoon and I am busy with client issues. Two of my largest clients just sent me a list of last minute revisions to ads scheduled to run in a week. They are notorious for making changes without discussion and I charge them well to make last minute revisions to both the ad copy and the graphic art. They balk at the charges added for last minute revisions not included in the original contract but ultimately pay knowing that I will deliver.

After working on the revisions and sending them back, I had a few minutes to relax. Looking out my office window onto the back lawn, I see Trish laying out working on a tan, her Asian complexion becoming darker and more exotic. Today she wore a bikini that was more string than material covering her because she knows I like to look.

The doorbell chiming interrupted my gaze. I answered the door seeing three cops standing there. Two were uniform cops and one was a plain clothes. They went through the ID process making sure they had the right house. "Can we come in," the plain clothes cop asked.

The plain-clothes cop told me he serves on the drug and gang taskforce and leapt into a bunch of questions why my wife would be in a part of town known for gang violence, drugs, and prostitution. I told them the little I knew telling them that I knew she worked in recreation. Then it hit me what recreation business she was in.

The plain-clothes cop began telling me that my wife is dead. "There was a gang shooting today. Your wife was in bed with a known gang leader. A rival gang member broke in and killed the gang leader and your wife." He told the story politely; however, I translated it to gangbanger's bitch. They asked to interview anyone else in the house.

I called out to Trish, which is unusual for me. "Put on some clothes, cops need to talk to you." She was already pulling her shorts up and putting on a T-shirt.

They asked her the same questions as they asked me and there was not any conflict between our answers. They asked Trish and I for names and addresses of our closest friends and relatives. "We may have to interview them as part of the investigation." They left leaving me to tell Trish the story of her adopted mother's murder.

Trish was more surprised and shocked than I was and in the end came to the same conclusion I reached. "Sean, what do we do now?" Trish had a distant look on her face. If this were a time for a joke, I would say her lights were on but no one was home. We closed the distance between us and Trish put her head into my chest and sobbed gently. She was not crying deeply as a daughter might. Apparently, there were strains in her relationship with her mother just as I had strains.

I expected local media to grab this story and sensationalize it; however, media only covered it as a gang shooting under investigated by the gang, drug, and prostitution taskforce. The coroner issued a temporary death certificate listing death as gun shot wounds to the head and chest. The coroner kept the body for over two weeks before releasing it for burial.

Trish and I went through the motions of keeping up with our daily schedules although I did refuse a couple new clients on grounds of death in the family. Other clients with long range schedules let me put off their contracts for a "specified period with obligation dates unchanged." The pressing clients got their material on time.

My wife's lawyer called us to her office for a reading of the will. There was not much to it, I was beneficiary of her accounts, joint property came to me solely, and Trish received life insurance proceeds. One section of the will specified that Trish should live at home until she decides to move on her own. That provision confused us since there were no ill feelings between Trish and I.

A few months passed with the routines of daily life becoming boring. Cooler late fall weather meant no more looking out the window at scantly clothed Trish as she tanned. Since the death, she has not dated anyone and throws herself into her part time work. I wondered why she did not date or spend time with friends, I convinced myself to pry a little.

After dinner one evening, I asked Trish why she has not been dating since the murder and why she dated very little before. The look Trish gave me was a mix of confusion and fear with something else that I could not figure out. Her answer came slowly. "I couldn't find a guy who met mom's expectations. Every guy was wrong, wrong neighborhood, wrong genes, and not enough money. It is hard keeping a boyfriend when he gets the full brunt of mom's scrutiny. Since her murder, I guess I'm marked as dangerous, guilty by association."

"Are you calling yourself guilty or have you heard that from others?" I waited for a reply, did not get one and continued, "Have friends called asking you out, have guys called to ask you out? Are you saying no?"

Trish answered with a very quiet tone, "I'm waiting for a certain guy to come along. I know who he is but he doesn't know yet."

"If he doesn't know, how is he going to find out unless you tell him?" I smiled at Trish while telling her that he will not know unless she tells him. Although Trish smiled in return, I could tell Trish was not ready to say more. I let my curiosity rest.

I had a plan for Trish's 26th birthday in a couple weeks. Even though the weather is now cold, too cold for a party outside, I decided to give Trish a real party and told her my thoughts. "A real party that I plan? Mom always arranged my parties inviting all the right people. I think those parties were for her not me."

I was pleased to see Trish registering excitement to plan her own party. "You give me a list of party essentials and I'll get them for you. Make sure everyone you invite is over 21. If they drink, they have to give up keys and a couple people should be designated drivers."

It had been a long time since Trish was this excited, she jumped to my side crushing me in a hug and kissing me all over my face. When her lips met mine, we were both prepared for a kiss that was not completely innocent, one we did not pursue further.

In a couple days, Trish had her list of friends to invite and a list of party essentials. It was her list of friends and I said nothing about approving her list. On the list of essentials, at the bottom, Trish wrote, "weed???" I wonder if she knew that I have a stash locked away for personal use.

The days leading up to her weekend party counted down and Trish prepared a little each day. The morning of the party, Trish was practically a basket case even though everything was ready. "Sean, I'm excited to throw my own party, this is like a sweet sixteen party just ten years late. Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Trish hugged me and showered me with more kisses. When her lips met mine, we were again ready for a less than innocent kiss that neither of us refused and both of us sought.

"When will your party kick off? You ought to take your shower and get dressed. I will be around some when I get a drink; however, I will stay out of your way."

"Everyone should be here about 3:00. I'll get ready soon. I want you to see my party dress first." The smile on Trish's face and the twinkle in her eyes did not escape my sight and I looked forward to approving her clothing choice.

Trish excited me by saying she wants me to see her party dress first. After a few more minutes, Trish dashed off for the bathroom to start getting ready. I went to my room to shower and change, passing the bathroom Trish was in I heard quiet moaning and panting. I was captivated listening to Trish jilling off then I heard her softly say, "Yes, Sean, like that, feels good, Sean." Then a louder moan escaped her as she reached her orgasm.

I darted for my room with the need for a fantasy of my own and in the shower I did masturbate to the thought of Trish as my fantasy partner. When my head cleared from its pure lust enraged state, I remembered Trish say the right guy doesn't know it. Speaking aloud but to no one in particular, "He knows now."

I dressed, left my room, and waited in the living room for Trish to appear. "Sean, where are you," Trish called in extra cheerful voice. I answered and got this reply, "Close your eyes until I say open, I want to see your first reaction." I obeyed expecting that the party dress to be a knock out. "Open them."

If I expected a knock out, I understated my expectations. Trish wore a pale yellow sundress that looked tailored to her form. Her breasts were accentuated by the form-hugging torso then the dress flared over hips with the hem just shorter than mid thigh. The dress was a perfect contrast to her dark Asian complexion. With her hair tied neatly in a ponytail, her face drew my attention. She lightly highlighted her eyes although Trish did not use a lot of makeup otherwise. My bathroom fantasy was vivid but the vision before me was exquisite, showing some charms, hiding others, my imagination wondered. "Well, what do you think?"

My stare must have given some clue what I thought. "You are a perfect 'ten'. I hope your secret guy gets the clue from you today, if you invited him." It was not time for me to give away what I learned through the bathroom door.

Trish had a shy look in her eye when she said, "Maybe he will get a clue today."

It took a couple hours to set up the bar with drinks, alcohols, mixers, ice, and snacks. Trish found a bag of weed I hid in the party fixings and gave me a big hug. "I think I may find the nerve to tell him today."

"He isn't blind or deaf and is just waiting to hear it from you." I squeezed her tight to me and planted a little kiss on her forehead. I wondered if Trish picked up subtle meaning of my last line, her eyes told me she had.

The party got underway and rocked well into the night. I made rounds a couple times while fixing drinks for myself making sure to make eye contact with Trish. I don't know when the party wound down because I fell out.

Morning came although I had no idea what time it was, then I realized someone cuddled up to me in my bed. I stayed to myself all night except to fix a drink and stroll through the partiers. I was confused over who had molded their body to mine. I slowly untangled myself from the arm and leg entwined over me. Free of arms and legs, I turned to see who slept with me and was shocked and pleased to discover Trish wrapped up on my bed. I let her sleep.

I made some headway toward scanning party damage and looking for folks who stayed the night after drinking too much. No one slept in Trish's room; a guy and a girl camped out in the living room and another couple in the basement. What did please me was how neat the house was. Major messes were in trash bags and a few empties in the kitchen.

I started a pot of coffee and rushed off to shower quickly. I grabbed clean clothes and went to the bathroom to shower and dress. Trish was awake when I left the bathroom; she sat on the edge of the bed, looking at me. "Morning Trish. I hope you had a nice sleep. I know I had a nice surprise when I woke. Coffee is on, come drink with me."

"I'll have some super strong super fast acting aspirin, too. Help me up?" Trish raised both her arms over her head and as I got close, she encircled my neck leaping into a hug. "Can I use your bathroom, Sean? I'll be in the kitchen in a few minutes."

The pot of coffee gurgled signaling coffee ready to drink; I poured a cup for myself. A few minutes later, Trish appeared in the kitchen freshly showered and changed. Coffee and aspirin, please," Trish begged. "I didn't think I drank that much last night, I mean, all night." Trish sat next to me and laid her head on my shoulder. "I wish the drummer would take a break."

I put my arm around Trish with a gentle hug. "That's why they are called hangovers," I giggled. "You'll be human in a few hours. Don't drink coffee only, you need water to rehydrate. Are you ready for some food? I can fix sausage and eggs."

We heard some stumbling around in the living room then the toilet flush and a few minutes later, another flush. Trish went to say good-bye to the couple from the living room. Not much later, the couple in the basement left with similar good byes. Only Trish and I remained in the now empty house, Trish drinking coffee and nursing her hang over.

"How about those sausages and eggs, Sean," Trish begged as she got up to refill her coffee. The time was actually closer to noon and breakfast became brunch. I cooked sausage and eggs with some hash-brown potatoes. I made Trish drink a tall glass of juice to help her rehydrate her alcohol-fried brain.

As we ate, we looked into each otherÕs eyes. We were not speaking. In my mind, I tried to think of the best way to approach what must be a turning point in our relationship. Trish's face showed a happy look, she smiled as she ate, her eyes were happy as well. I broke the ice, "What time did you go to bed this morning, Trish?"

She didn't hesitate in answering, "I was probably around 3:30 or 4:00. The party was over and I wanted to tell you how happy I was. You were asleep so I just curled up next to you. It felt good." There was a shy quality in her voice and demeanor, yet a direct quality too. "I didn't want you to catch me in your bed with you because maybe you would be angry. Then this morning you were completely okay with it, I was relieved."

Perhaps I should have used more caution; yet, I dived in. "Trish, did you tell your special guy how you felt?" With her head bowed slightly and the smile leaving her face, Trish answered, no, so I pushed a little harder. "I bet he knows and is just waiting to hear it from you. I just wonder if he knows you stayed in another bed last night."

Trish gave me a strange look that seemed filled with an emotion I had not seen before. I wanted to push further and decided better. Trish will tell me in due time. "I don't want him to think I'm crazy, Sean. He is older than me."

That was a slight opening and I stepped through the little opening she gave me. "Trish, you cuddled up close to me wrapping me in your arms and legs last night. I didn't complain, didn't get angry, and didn't call you crazy. Can you look at me over your sausage and eggs and tell me I am reading too much."

Trish look up, looked over her sausage and eggs and in a cute exasperated tween singsong voice, she said my name in one long drawn out syllable, "Sean!" Her tone made me smile and in a few seconds, Trish smiled as well. After a long pause, Trish admitted, "No, you are not reading too much and maybe not reading enough. Sean, I wanted the perfect moment to say something, I didn't think it would be with a hangover and a plate of sausage and eggs."

I decided to drop my last piece of knowledge, "Yesterday, when you were in the shower, I walked past the bathroom door on my way to my shower; I heard you sigh and say my name." Trish went deep red with embarrassment. A second time she used that singsong voice saying my name but this time she it was different sounding sultry and sensual. "Lets finish eating and get you over your hangover. We have many decisions ahead of us."

Trish's secret was out, she had not verbalized it the way she intended; however, it was secret no more. Neither she nor I spoke more of it as we finished our meals. We stole glances between bites and sometimes shared penetrating eye contact followed by happy knowing smiles. Except for a couple unchaste kisses and Trish sleeping with me last night, we never had real sexual contact. We knew that barriers were now thrown down, yet our instincts told us that now was not the time to act on emotion and desire. It was a strange sixth sense of mutual knowing that tonight would be one of blissful sex.

When we finished eating, Trish said she was feeling much better. "I will clear all the trash and finish cleaning, Sean." Trish rose from the table, came to me from behind, wrapped her arms around my chest, and whispered in my ear, "Yes, Sean, you are my fantasy man." She darted off to collect bags of trash for the bin.

I cleaned the kitchen and moved on to the bar making sure everything was capped, ice buckets drained and dry, and snacks put away or thrown away. Trish scampered around dusting and vacuuming. It only took a couple hours to get the house back in order. Trish drank some more juice, took a couple more aspirin, and by about five in the afternoon said she felt cured.

As the darkening evening sky turned into a late fall night and with house clean, we fell into our favorite living room chairs. There was tension in the room as we both waited for the other to speak first. "Come sit with me, Trish," I spoke quietly.

Trish looked at me knowing there was no room for her in my chair; however, she came to me seizing the only space left, my lap. She wiggled a bit, either to get comfortable or to get a rise from me. Regardless, her efforts did give me reason to rise. When she was comfortable, she buried her head on my shoulder and I placed my arm around her waist with my hand just on her hip. "Trish is this what you want, I am twice your age and that is significant."

"I have never been able to have the man I wanted because mom kept them all away from me. Now I am free to choose. So, yes, I am sure this is what I want and much more." Trish raised her head, palmed my face drawing my face to hers. Our lips met and her passion exploded into a fiery kiss that polite society would not condone. My hand on her hip slid up until it touched her chest and the soft side of her breast, Trish was braless. She moved her hand to atop mine drawing my hand to her nipple which was swollen and stiff with excitement. "Feel me, Sean, feel my excitement like I feel your excitement."

Trish was right; my excitement was obvious to me and to her. She was rolling her hips against me and her breath became ragged. Our lovemaking was underway and we both knew it and wanted it. Trish's petite body was light on my lap as we continued to kiss, her body rubbing mine, my hand exploring her breasts. When we paused to catch our breath I panted, "Here or the bedroom?"