Brief Summary of Chapter 1: While traveling through Eugene, Oregon, David meets Eve Larkin, a very sexy psychologist whose car has broken down. David offers to drive her home and she accepts. From the beginning there is a strong sexual attraction between Eve and David. A few hours later David has a new perspective on how great sex can be. With much trepidation, David had allowed Eve to put him in bonds and take complete control of the sex act. The experience was earth shattering for David, completely altering his attitude toward who must control sexual relations. Eve suggested David stay the night, rather than driving back across town to his motel.
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It was Friday morning and Eve found a pair of Levis for me, to replace the ones she'd demolished in our frolic the night before. They were snug, but I finally got them buttoned and zipped. Eve prepared breakfast for us and I sat and watched, as I did last evening. She was dressed more conservatively than yesterday--a white blouse with long sleeves tucked into tan form-fitting slacks. As I watched her move about the kitchen, images from the night before kept bouncing around my mind. As a result, the snug Levis became downright painful in the crotch. I found myself actually relieved when she poured our coffee, sat down and started a conversation, "If you're staying in a motel, I assume you're not from around here."
"No, I'm from Washington. My parents live on the coast up near the Canadian border."
"What are you doing down this way?"
"Just seeing the country. I returned from Iraq several days ago and decided to take a trip."
"Oh, you're in the military, then."
"I was in the Army, but my tour was up and I chose not to re-up."
"Where're you headed?"
"I don't really have a place in mind. I've never seen much of the U.S., so I decided to take a trip before going back to college. Right now I'm headed toward California. I'll probably go all the way to San Diego, but from there, who knows." I didn't want to tell her the story about my girlfriend breaking up with me, so I changed the subject. "Yesterday, you mentioned teaching classes at the University and some experiments you're conducting. What kind of experiments? If you don't mind my asking."
She set her fork down. "I don't mind at all, David. In fact I love talking about my experiments. As I mentioned last night, I'm a Sexual Psychologist--better known, perhaps, as a Sex Therapist. For about a year now I've been conducting a study dealing with the nature of sexual orientation. My study is trying to determine how much of our sexual orientation is determined by culture. So far my experiments and interviews indicate that the cultural influence on sexual orientation is quite high. The research I've read, as well as my own work, suggests that most heterosexuals have homosexual urges. The question is: What percentage of these urges comes from culturally suppressed homosexual tendencies."
"People having homosexual urges? Isn't that the definition of homosexual?"
"Not really. According to my research, there are two categories of sexual orientation--Natural and Culturally Instilled. In reality, when you hear about heterosexuals changing their orientation, I think it's more like they're admitting their true sexual nature, rather than changing it. A Natural heterosexual, may have homosexual feelings on occasion but still retain a heterosexual orientation--probably not the case with the Culturally Instilled heterosexual. We know that culture instills strict codes of behavior in the individual. In the case of sexual orientation this code may come in conflict with the individual's natural feelings. When it does, some people rebel against the cultural values and follow their own feelings. Others succumb to the dictates of culture and become heterosexuals against their nature. Under special circumstances those values established by the culture may break down and the individual reverts back to his or her natural orientation. Thus we have what we see as a heterosexual turning homosexual.
"I don't think I'd agree, though, that heterosexuals have homosexual urges. I'm definitely heterosexual, and I have no urges to have sex with men."
"Really? My research would consider it rare that you've never felt an urge to see what sex with a man would be like. Maybe I should've included you in my studies.
"Hey, sound's like fun."
"It's too late for that, though, I've completed my study. In fact we're having a party this weekend to celebrate. Maybe you'd like to stay for the party."
"Sounds great to me. I'm in no hurry to get to California. Where's the party going to be held?"
"Right here," Eve said and began clearing the table. I picked up some of the plates and followed Eve.
"Okay, I'll extend my stay at the Holiday Inn. Thanks for the invite."
She took the plates from my hands and placed them in the sink. "You don't need to do that, David. You can stay here."
"Really? That would be terrific. You don't mind?"
Eve turned toward me, gave me one of her penetrating stares, smiled a smile full of erotic meaning, took my too tight crotch in her hand, squeezing my balls just short of painfully. Then she said, "No, David, of course I don't mind your staying here! Actually, I was thinking selfishly. If I should decide to take advantage of you again, it would be convenient if you were right here." She reached up and kissed me full on the mouth, then licked across my lips. I reached for her, but she quickly released her hold on my crotch and picked up the phone. "Okay," she said, "that's settled. After dropping me off at the car dealer's, why don't you pick up your things and bring them back here. You can put your stuff in the room you slept in last night. Here's a key."
Eve called the car dealer and had them pick up her stalled car. I drove her to the dealership where she picked up a loaner. Afterwards, I went to the motel, showered, shaved and put on clean clothes.
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Upon returning to Eve's house, I found a red VW beetle parked in the driveway. Eve hadn't mentioned anyone coming by, so I figured caution was called for. As a weapon, I took the tire iron from my trunk and quietly entered the house.
Inside, I listened for movement, heard nothing and decided to explore. As I crept down the hall leading to the patio and pool area, I heard what I thought was a voice. I didn't pick up any words, but it sounded human. It seemed to have come from the last room on my left, so with the tire iron in the ready, I cautiously approached the open door. When I peeked around the frame, I was looking at a reflection in the floor to ceiling mirror attached to the opposite wall. Reflected in that mirror was a sight to inspire a dead man. A girl, who looked to be in her late teens, was lying on the bed masturbating. She was nude from the waist down, her top covered with a t-shirt, her pale smooth legs up and bent, knees almost touching her breasts. The fingers of her right hand fondled her bald pussy while her left hand caressed erect nipples through the cotton of her shirt. Her face was turned toward the mirror, eyes closed, mouth open and a rapt expression on her face. A pair of white cotton panties lay on the floor at the foot of the bed.
I must have made some slight noise, because her eyes snapped open and she saw my reflection. Her startled reaction was more of a panicked grunt and a scared whimper than a scream. I jumped back and then she was yelling and crying hysterically, "Get out! Get out! What are you doing in here? Who are you? What do you want? Go away, please go away."
I wasn't sure what to do. Panic and confusion were the major emotions in her voice, and I figured it might help if I could quiet her fear somewhat. I said, "Look, I'm sorry for walking in on you like that. I heard something and thought it was a burglar."
With a shaky voice she asked, "Who are you? What are you doing in here?"
It seemed there was a slight lessening in her fear. "I'm a guest of Eve's. I might ask you the same thing." Then, after a thought, I said, "As a matter of fact, what ARE you doing in here?"
She still hadn't come out of hiding, and I didn't venture into the room. She hesitated for a moment, then said a little sheepishly, "I'm a student at the University. I come in twice a week and clean house for Dr. Larkin." With that she came into view. She wasn't crying now, just embarrassed. She'd pulled on some loose fitting cutoffs that appeared to have been old warm-ups cut off at mid-thigh. I noticed her panties still at the foot of the bed. She looked to be nineteen or twenty, a little over five feet tall. Full lips, soft gray-blue eyes, a lovely innocent face framed by a full head of red wavy hair. Her skin was smooth and fair without a freckle, which made me wonder if the red hair color was natural. She was staring at the floor. Finally she forced herself to look at me, "Will... will... you tell Dr. Larkin that I was... what I was doing a moment ago?" There was an unmistakable plea for mercy in her voice.
