Joan and her best friend, Marcy, were having their regular Wednesday evening dinner together at a favorite little restaurant, hidden at the usual table in the back corner behind the awful plastic shrubbery. The Italian food was terrific, however. Their weekly get-togethers had started only about four or five months ago, although they had known one another casually at work for several years. Now they regularly shared intimate thoughts and were their own self-proclaimed "mutual help society."
Joan seemed to be thoroughly preoccupied tonight. She'd utterly failed at keeping connected to the thread of their conversation, and that amused Marcy - Joan was usually so self controlled. Just now, for the fourth or fifth time that evening, Joan had bumped into something, or dropped something, or simply drifted off into space. This time it was her wine glass, which rocked back and forth until Marcy caught it. She grinned at the reddening Joan, reached out to touch her hand, and said "So? Just what the dickens is wrong with YOU tonight? Something is clearly eating at you... wanna tell Mommy Marcy all about it?"
Joan blushed, hemmed and hawed a little, and finally muttered "Oh, hell! Alright, I'll fess up. You know the night oceanography class I'm taking on Thursdays over at the U?"
Marcy nodded, waiting.
"Well," Joan continued, "... My instructor is..." She paused for a deep breath. "Dammit, Marcy, he's just about the sexiest thing I've ever seen! He's about my age, and a runner, and he teaches the class in shorts for God's sake! With those beautiful runner's legs just dangling all over the place. I can't even THINK when I'm around him, it's like I'm a big Jell-O-bag of galloping hormones! I haven't felt so completely distracted and horny since I was a teenager!"
Marcy grinned, sipped her wine, and murmured "I sort of thought it might be something like that!"
There was another long pause. Joan twiddled with her glass. Finally, Marcy said "Well? So... Tell me, my little Joan... just exactly what are you planning to DO about it? Can you tell if he feels the same way, perhaps?"
Joan looked across the table, thought about it, and replied "Frankly, I'd love to just jump his bones and fuck the both of us to death! But I COULDN'T! I mean, he's my teacher and all... I don't even know if he's married, or has a girlfriend, or..." She blushed bright red and giggled: "Hells bells, Marcy, for all I know he could be GAY!" Beneath the table, her crotch was suddenly dripping wet beneath her nylon panties.
Marcy looked at her across the centerpiece and said "Joan, you'd know it in a minute if he were gay! You're obviously putting out signals, and he's probably responding to them just fine, or else you wouldn't be in such a lather! Given that, I can't imagine that he wouldn't be interested in you... you're a very attractive woman, and I'll just bet he can tell you're hot for him! Men, at least the better ones, can usually figure that out, and I really, really do suspect you've been putting out signals like crazy already. Just look at you! - I'll bet you are right on the edge, this very moment, of being stuck to to your chair!
Carpe diem
, you know!"
Joan stumbled over the Latin, took a moment to recall what it meant. "Seize the day"... aka "Do it now, you might not have another chance!" She looked at Marcy, who was grinning like a Cheshire cat. They stared briefly at one another, and Marcy continued "You don't suppose he's a virgin, do you?"
Joan giggled and replied "Good lord, NO! Of course not!"
Marcy shrugged, "And you're not one either, are you?"
Joan looked at Marcy, all wide-eyed and innocently puzzled, and replied "Just WHAT are you getting at, Marcy?"
Marcy smiled a sweet, innocent smile: "Well, Joan, no one ever noticed an extra slice taken from a cut loaf, now, did they? Does your sex equipment have a finite lifespan? Mine doesn't, and I'll bet your teacher's doesn't!"
Joan reddened again, and whispered "No... I suppose people really don't miss the extra slice, do they? How would you inventory THAT!? But I just couldn't..."
Marcy suddenly interrupted her with a fierce whisper: "Oh hell, Joan! YES you COULD SO and you know it!"
Then it was Marcy's turn to redden. She continued "After all, I fucked my parish priest when I was just barely legal- and I was living in a state with an age of consent way, way below the national average! If I could do that, then you can certainly fuck your teacher!"
Joan looked across the table at Marcy, completely stunned. "You didn't!" she whispered, finally.
"Oh yes I did! And enjoyed the hell out of it. Every second of the exercise!" Marcy replied without elaboration.
Joan pounced: "Okay, Marcy, you now have my undivided attention, so GIVE, already! Tell me, tell me tell me tell me! Tell me EVERYTHING, dammit!" Marcy sighed and began...
1: Marcy's Tale - My PRIEST
"I was a good Catholic girl back then. Like most good Catholic girls, I'd begun fucking very young, and by this time I'd had three or four boyfriends, and had probably fucked about ten times. Hadn't made love yet, however... the guys were too young and inexperienced. But it sure was fun!"
"This all happened at the end of the summer: Our church had a temporary, visiting priest... a seriously-hunky, 42-year-old named Father Jim Flannery, a real Irish Catholic - born in Ireland, believe it or not. He was gorgeous! A big man, handsome, friendly, really well educated. You could just see all the women in the church drooling over him! We had a church picnic, at the local lake, early that summer and he was there 'officiating' in his swimsuit: I found out he ran long-distance and played a lot of handball and lifted weights. God but he was handsome! Jeezusssss!! Girl, I was as busty then as I am today... and he made me so horny my nipples ached!"
A dreamy look: "I was taking evening communion classes and he was teaching them."
Joan poured more wine, said "So?????"
Marcy continued: "Well, he totally occupied my mind. With sex, not catechism! I would get so WET sitting there in the class, it was unbearable. Then one night after classes ended, about 9 o'clock, I just kind of dawdled until all the other students had left, and there I was alone with him. Jeez, I thought I'd faint! He asked me if I had an extra few minutes to help him do some cleaning upstairs, around the altar.
What do you think I said?
Upstairs we went. The whole church was darkened except for a few lights far away from the altar, near the front door. I was trying to figure out what to say to him, not thinking very clearly at all, and just blurted out all of a sudden "Father Jim, are all priests gay?""
Joan goggled, and asked "What the heck did you ask that for? What a way to start!"
"Well, Jim just turned around and looked at me, then asked the same question as you just did, 'Why do you ask?'"