[All characters in this story who are involved in serious sexual situations are at least 18 years old - PS]
We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
Christine stared at her computer screen, searching for inspiration. She had extracted this quote from the movie, and, searching for it on the Internet, had quickly discovered that it was from a poem by T. S. Eliot. She had to write a short synopsis on themes from The Magus for her Film Studies course, although the exact outline for it was to be given this coming week, and she was somewhat stumped for an idea; maybe using something from the quote to explain the movie might work? The film itself was very confusing, and controversial. Her professor had explained that it had been a critical failure when it was released. So much so that in the lecture notes there was a quotation from Woody Allen: "If I had to live my life again, I'd do everything the same, except that I wouldn't see The Magus."
"How do you write about something you don't even understand?" she thought to herself, becoming quite frustrated. She had thought that Film Studies would be more or less a bird course; she only needed three more credits to finish her degree, but had quickly discovered, over the course of the first few weeks, that nothing could be further from the truth!
Of course this wasn't the only thing that perplexed her, as she sat at her desk in her bedroom. Her roommate, Jill, also fell into that category. When she had first met her, after responding to an ad to share an apartment posted at the Adult Learning Centre, she thought they might have a lot in common. After all they were both doing night courses, and working towards a degree, while holding down the proverbial "McJob". But events soon proved her wrong. Jill's driving ambition, at least as far as the non-academic portion of her life was concerned, was to get an education of the sort that involved lying naked on a bed with your legs wide apart, so a variety of young men could get closely acquainted with, and take advantage of, your female anatomy!
Christine had never met someone who was so overtly promiscuous. In some respects it quite upset her. Naturally cautious, she was astonished at some of the male specimens Jill brought home on many an evening, and the sounds that came through the paper thin walls of the apartment from her roommate's bedroom.
It wasn't that Christine was a prude, just that she thought Jill's behavior was bordering on reckless. Who knew where the latest hunk Jill was using to satisfy her female desires had been, or had done, and to whom?
But otherwise, over the course of the first two months of shared accommodation, she had been an ideal roommate, doing more than her fair share of the cooking and cleaning, and always leaving the common areas of the apartment neat and tidy.
Christine had moved out of the house at the end of August; things at home were just no longer tenable. Christine was the product of a teenaged pregnancy, and for as long as she could remember her parent's marriage had been rocky ... to say the least! The final downhill slide, in terms of a life at home, had started after her parents had divorced around the end of third year, which had upset Christine enormously. It was probably why she ended up on academic probation after the first semester of her fourth year ... she just couldn't seem to focus on school. At least the university let her keep the credits where she had achieved at least a C average. Since she had to take the rest of the academic year off, she got a job as a hostess at a high end restaurant, which wasn't very difficult for a very attractive young woman like Christine. She had no illusions; her role at the restaurant was purely decorative, but it paid at least semi-decently when you counted your share of the tips, and the work, which mainly consisted of greeting and seating the patrons, setting tables, and taking telephone calls for reservations, wasn't particularly taxing.
When she came off academic probation she decided to finish up her remaining credits at night school, and to keep the job; she liked having the money, and she certainly enjoyed having her own car for the first time! She had selected the Film Studies course because it was given on a Monday night, when the restaurant was closed.
The decision to leave home had been difficult, but it was the only way of avoiding the problem with her mother ... and more specifically the new, very much younger boyfriend she was reliving her youth through. Of course it wasn't surprising that her mother had found a boyfriend, Christine had clearly inherited her fine features from her mother, who, at not quite forty and still very slim and attractive, could pass for a much younger woman.
As for the boyfriend, Christine didn't like him from the moment she met him, and even less so when she walked into the kitchen by accident one evening; she was supposed to be at work but her shift had been shortened, and discovered her mother, stark naked from the waist down and bent forward over a table, while her equally partly nude paramour energetically fucked her from behind ... it took a few seconds before they even noticed her ... and only a few seconds more for Christine to make a hasty exit!
"And 'fuck' is definitely the right word for what they were doing," Christine said to herself, wrinkling her nose as she recalled the incident, "because those two would never even be remotely accused of 'making love' ... it's all about sex ... sex ... and more sex!"
As embarrassing as the kitchen incident was, the absolute last straw was the ridiculous way her mother was now dressing, or perhaps more correctly, undressing! Not that it was Christine's place to be judgemental, but her mother's bare breasts were easily seen by anyone caring to look underneath a variety of low cut tops, or mostly unbuttoned blouses. And lately she was wearing skirts so short that not even a hooker would be caught dead in them, and even worse, nothing underneath; so it was pretty difficult, whenever she sat across from you, not to be treated to any number of disgustingly graphic displays of her mother's totally exposed female anatomy ... completely shaved no less! Who did she think she was, Sharon Stone? No doubt the boyfriend was the intended audience for all this exhibitionism.
"Sheesh!" Christine thought, giving her head a little shake, and feeling her cheeks burning as she recollected her mother's wanton behavior ... and attire, or more properly, the lack of it, "I've read that divorced women can act a little crazy trying to re-affirm their sexuality ... but my own mother is re-writing the textbooks."
So it was definitely time to move out, and to let her mother act out all her pent up fantasies without Christine as an audience.
"Hopefully it's just a phase," Christine mused, nodding her head sadly, and feeling very much the parent, not the child.
* * *
After about another hour of trying to twist T. S. Eliot's words into some type of theme for a paper, Christine finally gave up. She'd go and ask the professor for some guidance next week before class ... it seemed the only way. She got up and went out to use the washroom. She had broken her life-long habit of changing into a nightgown and then preparing for bed, because her mother's stud had a nasty habit of coming upstairs just when she was about to have to walk down the hall to her bedroom ... probably to catch a glimpse of Christine's naked body through the semi-sheer material. He had made it quite clear during several very awkward conversations that he would be happy to perform the same sexual services for Christine as he was already doing for her mother ... as if!
After finishing in the washroom, she returned to her room to change for bed. Slipping out of her jeans and top, she then undid her bra and lowered her panties, tossing both of them into the laundry basket she kept on the floor of the closet. Stopping for a moment, she contemplated herself in the full length mirror that hung on the back of the door. At just about 23, she was, she knew, about as perfect as she ever would be. Her light brown hair cascaded down to the middle of her back in a series of gentle tendrils, framing her face, whose features had been the envy of all of her girlfriends even before adolescence. For work, or the occasional party, she would wear some lipstick in a shade of modest pink, along with mascara, eye liner and soft blue eye shadow to emphasize the colour of her eyes. She rarely used any type of foundation; her clear, virtually perfect skin had a certain natural glow all by itself!
Looking downwards, she contemplated her breasts. They weren't anything remarkable, just a nice medium size. Finally, there was the slightly darker puff of curly brown hair at the intersection of her legs, not quite concealing the warm, soft, sensitive valley that lay a little lower down. No young man had explored there so far; hopefully that would change soon!
