"Mentor Wanted"
Some of this story is true. Some of it is fiction. I guess it's up to you to wonder which is which!
"I have no mentor. I have no teacher. I am flying blind," Katie-Jane told her husband. She was frustrated. The professor who had guided her through her dissertation had assured her that once she was done, he would continue his assistance when she went to publish her non-academic work. He flaked out. Shocker. So here she was- trying to reach another life goal, and she was working solo.
Her husband, Eric, was supportive. When Katie-Jane informed him that she planned to get her Ph.D, he was there to help pick up the slack with their three kids. When she worked eighty hours a week, he was there to make dinner and run them to their sports. Now he was once again being supportive by listening to her gripe about her writing frustrations.
"You know," he started, "I could take your mind off of writing for just a few moments." Katie sat at their dining room table, and Eric walked over to her. He brushed her auburn hair to the side and began to nuzzle her neck. As he gave her little kisses, he reached across her chest and started to fondle her left breast.
"Babe. I know you're trying to help, but this won't help me finish this current chapter. Can I take a rain check?" Sadly, she proposed several rain checks over the last few weeks. Eventually, she was going to have to pay up. "I don't mean to be grumpy. I'm just frustrated because I don't know if what I am doing is correct or complete shit. Does that make sense? I don't mean to keep blowing you off. I just wish I had someone to guide me." She put her hand over Eric's hand, which was still resting on her breast. She squeezed. "I promise! I'll make it up to you."
"You said blowing!" Eric smiled. "Have you looked on Facebook for a support group for fellow writers? Or is there like a wannabe writers' website or something you could join?" Eric laughed at his joke. "WWW dot writers wannabes dot com. Ha. That's kind of funny."
Katie rolled her eyes at her husband and then pushed his hand away. "You are an idiot. However, you're an idiot who sometimes has decent ideas. If only you stopped at suggesting a writer's support group, I would have thought you to be a genius."
"I always ruin it by talking." Eric pulled out his cubby and boinked his wife on the nose with it. "He has better ideas than me, ya know."
Katie-Jane knew he was going to continue to bother her until she gave him some attention, so she closed her laptop case and sighed.
"I don't even care if you sigh," her husband said as he waved his manhood in front of her.
"Come here," she smiled. "I know he needs a little attention." Katie-Jane took Eric's semi-erect penis into her mouth.
"Ahhh...good wife," he moaned.
"Remember...the more you talk, the more likely you are going to ruin this." She winked at her husband. Katie-Jane pulled Eric close enough that her nose touched the base of his erection. As she rubbed his balls gently, Eric closed his eyes and let out a soft moan. Katie-Jane continued to suck up and down varying her intensity. She swirled her tongue around his head making sure to focus on the underside, for she knew how sensitive he was there. Eric was a large man; standing over six feet five inches, his giant hands could palm a basketball as if it were an orange- nothing was small on this man including his member. As his erection grew Katie had to use her hand to assist in her oral skills. As her mouth moved up, her hand followed making sure Eric's erection had constant attention. She could feel him getting larger, which meant he was nearing the end.
"Baby...if you keep doing that, I'm gonna cum."
"Mmmhmmm," Katie-Jane moaned with Eric still in her mouth. She began to suck a little harder and a little faster. Her right hand assisted her skilled mouth while her left hand held Eric's balls. He loved when she did that because it prolonged his orgasm.
Eric placed both hands on Katie's shoulders. She could feel the precum on her tongue. She prepared herself for her husband's finale.
"Oh...fuck..." Eric goraned. Katie-Jane did not change her rhythm. She continued as gushes of warm cum coated her tongue. She did not particularly like the taste or texture of cum in her mouth, but she did enjoy making her husband feel good. Eric shuttered as his chubby fell from her mouth. Katie-Jane took a quick drink of her coffee trying to rid the coating. "You just keep getting better and better at that," he said breathlessly
Katie-Jane stood up and gave her husband a deep, passionate kiss. "Thank you for being so patient with me," she said as she draped her arms around her husband.
"Well if that is how you thank me, then I promise to be patient everyday with you. Now get back to work." Eric slapped Katie on the ass and left the dining room.
He's probably going to go pass out in his "very special chair"
she thought to herself.
Well either way, at least I can focus on this chapter before the kids get home
.
____________________________________________________________________________
The next day was a typical Monday. Katie-Jane was a high school psychology teacher who taught on the West Side of Chicago. Standing at five foot ten inches with long, auburn hair, she was the minority in her building. She was one of the few white teachers, which did not bother her. Her students- for the most part- respected her. She did not treat her students as foreigners or poor, black students. They were there to learn, and that was their job. She was there to teach them and support them; that was her job. With that said, Katie-Jane worked long hours making sure her lesson plans were challenging and applicable. Now that her own kids were getting older, she did not need to rush home. However, with the youngest playing basketball, that posed a challenge at times with her work schedule. They made it work though.
When the final bell rang she dismissed the class. "Woah! Do not forget to read chapter three tonight! You need to know who Bandura was and why the Bobo Doll experiment was important."
"We got you, Ms. F." DeMarcus dabbed her up as he walked out the room. "Keep it real tonight, Ms. F. Don't be working here too late. You know it's not safe for a white lady past dark."
"DeMarcus- who you calling a white lady? You be good tonight, and give your mama and that baby girl a kiss for me tonight." DeMarcus gave her his classic head nod and walked out the door.
Katie-Jane sat down at her computer, and went through her work emails. She had no real desire to make something for "Stuff the Lounge," but she knew that she should be a part of the school community. bla bla bla. She was procrastinating. She knew once she was done going through her emails, she would need to open up her going-no-where novel. That's when she remembered her husband's suggestion about joining a writer's support group.
She opened up Google and literally typed in "first time writers support groups." She was shocked- there were actually hundreds of results on Google.
Eh, you can always find it on the internet,
she thought to herself. After looking at several different websites, she found one that was to her liking. It was actually a group who posted samples of their writing, and allowed others to comment on them. "Perfect!" Katie-Jane said aloud. "At least now I will get some damn feedback on what I am doing."
After she created a profile, Katie-Jane thumbed through the stories when one caught her eye. "Onward and Upward" was the title.
Not terribly creative
, she thought,
but maybe it will be inspirational
. As she read the short story, she found herself laughing out loud at the dry wit, but then moved by the raw emotional challenges the newly widowed protagonist was facing. When she was done reading the story, she was honestly impressed. Rarely do people impress Katie-Jane, but for an amateur writer this was pretty good. The whole purpose of this website was to provide feedback to other writers, so Katie-Jane decided to do just that. According to the story, the author's name was Jack, so that's how she started her comment on the bottom.
Dear Jack,
As an aspiring writer myself, it was suggested that I join a support group of fellow writers. I found this website and stumbled upon your story. I have never emailed a random stranger before, but after reading your work, I felt compelled. I can appreciate your dry humor more than you know, but it pairs nicely with your raw emotions. I don't want to pry, but are you writing from experience? If so, I am deeply sorry for your loss. If not- well then it was quite creative. I hope your character continues his journey and does not close the door on the possibility of new things.
Cordially,
KJ
Katie-Jane sent her comment, which apparently went to an email because she did not see anything posted. Not thinking much of it, she read a few more stories before making herself open up her own novel.
Katie-Jane's ideas flowed without stopping from her mind to her fingers to her screen. Before she knew it, she had twenty more pages done. Not bad for a few hours after school. She closed her laptop and headed home. For some reason, Jack's story seemed to light a fire under her ass, and Katie-Jane lost all track of time until she heard her phone buzz.
E- Hey sexy- are you coming home tonight?
KJ- Oh. shit. Sorry. Lost track of time. I am going to finish up this chapter then on my way. Give me like 10.
E- Sounds good. Dinner in the oven.
Katie-Jane didn't realize it at the time, but more was cooking than just dinner that night.
____________________________________________________________________________
The week went by without incident. Her son played well in his basketball games. Her students could articulate the premise behind social-cognitive theory. She even had sex with her husband...twice! During her prep period on Friday afternoon, Katie-Jane was sitting at her desk eating an apple (such a cliche) and grading some papers when her phone chimed. It was her personal email. Unless it was a sales ad, Katie-Jane never got personal emails. At first, She did not recognize the name Jack Jones, but then it dawned on her that it was from that writer's support website.
Dear KJ,
Thank you for your kind words about my writing. I am not a widow, luckily, but thank you for your sympathies. I am sure there are days that my wife wishes she were
the
widow! Ha. There is some of my wit you had mentioned in your response. I have found that writing soothes my soul when my work schedule overwhelms me. This was my first crack at it.
Cordially,
Jack
Well that was nice
Katie-Jane thought.
But do I respond? Is that like a thing?
She didn't want to be rude.
Dear Jack,
I am glad to hear that you are not a widow. You said your job was intense and writing soothes your soul. What is it that you do? Writing is just a life goal of mine, but I am finding that maybe I teach better than I write. Fun fact- I am a high school psychology teacher. Chicago.
All the best,
KJ
Katie-Jane did not like going by KJ at all, but she wasn't sure how these online forum things worked. At least she was being semi-honest with her name. Who knew if this Jack guy was really named Jack. Thinking it would take him another week to reply, Katie-Jane set her phone aside and got back to her grading. No more than five minutes later her phone chimed again. Surprised, Katie-Jane opened up her email to see that this time it didn't take him a week to respond but minutes.
KJ,
Is that your real name? Are you a basketball player from the Phoenix Suns? Kevin Johnson? That is probably well before your time, and now I am showing my age a bit, which is quite ancient. I am an architect. I recently moved to Memphis, Tennessee, to a new firm. I am not a fan. Writing is my escape. Fun Fact- Jack is the name I go by...maybe someday I will tell you what my mother named me.
Jack
The bell rang, and her students began to enter class at a turtle's pace. Katie-Jane had no time to respond, but she found herself wanting to reply.
