Above 1

W.F. Stuart Teaching College is in the foothills, overlooked by the elite suburbs. It's the closest that ordinary folk can get to high living. Above the college are winding leafy roads with mansion after estate after villa. Deckings stilted above slopes, infinity pools cut into rock. Below the college was suburbia; rows of mostly untidy little boxes with simple grassed yards and low, meshed fences.

All of the students at Stuart were from Below. Above wouldn't deign to aspire to a career as a school teacher. It was beneath them, just as our school and our lives were.

In all honesty I hadn't aspired to be a school teacher either. A psychometric test recommended me to it. I fought the idea. I applied to art school, music school and even nursing. Teaching was my fallback's fallback. And yet here I was.

I'm not dumb, let's get that straight. I'm nervous. Tests terrify me. Presentations terrify me. I can't play piano at a concert. My paint brush shakes when people watch and judge me. The nursing practical I took was laughable. I literally killed the dummy. When I tipped the table over the head came off. But for some reason when I take control of a group of junior primary group kids, my anxiety melts away. I connect, and they adore me. Damn you, psychometric test!

My name is Wendy Wu. My dad is Chinese, but you wouldn't easily know it to look at me. Mom had stronger genes. The only obviously Asian part of me is my body. I'm 'petite'. My body is tight. I don't really need a bra, my breasts stand fine by themselves, though I use one to stop my nipples from showing out. My rear and thighs don't sag like my friends, but I'm not as tall as them. And they don't stumble like I do socially.

I had boyfriends over the years, I wasn't incapable. When they left it was never acrimonious, they simply drifted away. My friend Marge described it one day to me in Starbucks - I was good looking enough to attract the best guys, but too shy and introverted to keep them.

"And by that I mean sexually," she clarified. The memory of it makes me sigh. I never thought about sex. I didn't hate it; I had simply been indifferent to it. I didn't think of guys when I bought clothes. I didn't think of them when I dressed to go out. I didn't pick up the signals when I was being hit on. I didn't have sexual fantasies.

Don't get me wrong, I was not disgusted or put off by sexual people, I just didn't understand them.

"How did you ever lose your virginity?" a boyfriend snapped at me once. We were at his apartment, late, on the living room floor. It was mostly dark and he had pulled my jeans and panties down, poking his erection at me from behind. I wasn't stopping him, but I wasn't exactly helping either. I was watching TV. I get enthralled by some of the new series these days. The quality of the online streaming channels, it's amazing. It's like a whole movie was made for just one episode. GoT, Sherlock, Russian Doll, there are so many of them. I could watch them all night, completely absorbed... instead of paying the required amount of attention to the penis trying to force into my vagina from behind, for example.

One of my boyfriends tried to get me to come with him to a nude beach. That's just funny, right? I don't even wear bikinis. Guys get sick of it. They move on to more interesting girls.

"But your body is stunning," he would say in the shower, the only time and place I got nude with the lights on. "Guys would go nuts over you."

I looked at him like he was insane. Why on earth would either of us want that?

Shy. Good looking. Body to die for. Asexual. Poor. Career destined to remain so. I don't feel messed up, though. Each day I live my simple life happily.

———————

"We need money," my classmate Shirley said at lunch in the College cafeteria one day.

"What's new?" I shrugged.

"I can't even fix my car."

"You took the bus?" I raised my eyebrows. Shirley never took the bus.

"Of course not. Davy came to pick me up."

"You are cruel."

"He loves it."

"You broke it off. The poor guy is still in love. You need to let him move on."

"I tell you, he doesn't mind. A round trip and he gets a blow job. It's fair."

She was kidding of course.

"It's cruel. Let him go."

"You gonna pay to get my car fixed?"

"We need money," I agreed.

————————

Shirley came up with a plan. The employment office was there to help graduates find work, but occasionally had part-time roles. There was an ad for tutoring math after class for a middle-school kid.

"Where?" I asked, thinking it couldn't pay well.

"Up the hill."

"Up? Above? You're kidding. They advertised here?"

Shirley nodded. "Yep."

"How much?"

"50 an hour. 90 minutes. 75 each time."

"Holy shit!"

"I know, right?"

"How many people going for it?"

"They'll only interview three. You can put your name down, too," Shirley said generously.

I frowned.

"No, you do it," I said, not wanting to compete.

"Hey, if you go in we're a two-thirds chance of landing it."

There was some logic to that plan, but I was hesitant to go up the hill. It made me nervous. I didn't fit in up there.

"Middle school kid? That's not for me. If one comes up for elementary, I'll look at it."

"Pfft. No parent tutors elementary kids. Don't be ridiculous."

I knew that. It's why I said it.

"You go for it. Get it."

"I will."

"But how you gonna get there til you have enough money to fix your car?" I asked genuinely.

Shirley smiled. Oh no, I thought. Poor Davy.

———————-

I saw Shirley changing her clothes before going Above for her interview.

"You can't wear that!" I said, shocked.

"Hey, there are three of us going for it, I'm the last. Wilkins in the employment office reckons they like Mary Fluffy-Clothes. The one that looks like a hamster. Said there's no real point to go. So, I have one shot at it. Need to be different. Set myself apart."

"The kid's mother won't let you in the door."

"I'm banking on just the dad being home. According to Wilkins he has been for the others."

"Geez, Shirley, don't you think it's too much?"

Shirley is taller than me. Light brown wavy hair, flicks of blond highlights. Big bright smile. Great natural tits. Long shapely legs. All packaged in a flared yellow floral minidress and white-rimmed sunglasses.

"At least pull the front together, I can see your nipples. You'll get arrested teaching a minor with that much tit out."

"I'm not teaching today. It's just the interview."

"Tell me you left your panties on at least?"

Shirley looked mischievous.

"Freshly shaved," she grinned, cheekily flicking her front up.

"They'll call the police!"

"Well, then Davy won't have to give me a ride home, will he."

—————

The next time Shirley and I had lunch she told me she got the job.

"What? Why didn't you say something before now? I thought you must have blown it. Why didn't you tell me?"

Shirley twirled her vegetable pasta.

"This stuff is such crap."

"Shirley. Tell me how it went!"

Shirley looked up.

"It was all a bit weird."

"How...weird?"

"I think I'm in love."

That wasn't what I expected. I couldn't help it, I burst out laughing.

"Shut up you bitch!"

"With the dad??"

"With the dad," she confirmed sullenly.

"Holy shit! How the fuck did you do that?"

—————-

Shirley had gotten Davy to drop her down the street. She told him 'wait'. That poor guy.

"He was in a bit of a mood over me wearing that dress," she told me. "I used to wear it for him."

I shook my head whenever I thought of how she torments that poor boy.

When the door opened it was the father, she explained.

"Are you Shirley?"

"Yes sir," she smiled.

"That's more like it!" he beamed. "Come in!"

Door closed, he asked her to spin around. Without hesitation he lifted the front of her short dress.

"Bare-shaved pussy. You are perfect."

Shirley blushed red. She'd planned to flirt, but this had gone far too well. The father took her by the hand and led her down a grand hall into the dining room. He positioned her butt against the edge of the huge table. Holding her hips he lifted Shirley up to sit on it. The shock of the cold wood on her bare ass was alarming.

"Is your family here?" Shirley stuttered, trying to look around. The father ignored her. He pushed her back to lay on the table. He pulled her skirt to her hips. Kneeling on the floor, he buried his face into Shirley's shaved pussy.

Gasping, Shirley's head spun. How did it come to this so quickly? For a time, as that man's tongue lapped at her, she was trying to think - was this consensual? She hadn't said no, but he hadn't exactly given her the chance to say yes.

Then, suddenly, he brought his fingers up to join his mouth at her cunt.

"Oh shit!"

There was no more doubt. It was consensual. It was completely and utterly consensual. Shirley had never liked fingers from any of her boyfriends. Davy's were particularly rough and scratchy. And whenever she put her own in there it was too weird.

But all that had just changed.

Shirley strained to see what he was doing, how he was doing it. Her pelvis lit up. Involuntarily she was begging him to keep doing that. Just that. Right there. Screaming out in surprise at the sudden eroticism, Shirley was terrified the family would come running. Or the neighbors.

"Please!"

"Please what?" he broke long enough to say.

"Please. Give me cock. Please," Shirley panted desperately.

She had never begged a boy in her life to fuck her. She let boys inside at her discretion, not plead with them to nail her. How did it come to this so quickly, she again thought. The father grinned and kept doing what he was doing. He knew where Shirley was headed and wouldn't let her off.

She fought it, but finally he got her. Shirley broke. Unadulterated full body, squirting, orgasm. As the shaking started the father stood, grinding and scraping her insides as her eyes rolled and hips spasmed on his hand. Jealously he looked down at Shirley as her orgasm rolled on. What a thing if guys could cum for as long as that, he thought. Like an earthquake, it probably lasted only a minute but it seemed like ten to Shirley.

—————

"So that's when you fell in love?" I laughed.

"The precise moment," Shirley smiled wistfully.

"Hmmm. Sounds like a four-letter word starting with L, but not love."

"Wendy, you're a love skeptic. I've never wanted a guy in me like I wanted him. It wasn't just sexual it was spiritual."

"Listen to yourself! It's just a cock. A married guy's cock."

"No!"

"Yes."

"No. I really mean no. He never fucked me."

"What?"

"He didn't. He wouldn't."

"He didn't fuck you?" I asked suspiciously.

"He wouldn't. I wasn't on the pill and neither of us had a condom. He wouldn't do it."

"So that was it?"

"I had to make do with my mouth."

The father had pulled Shirley's dress up and off. He left hickeys on her breasts as she undid his button and zip. She tugged him fiercely as they kissed.

In the living room on the rug she sat on his face as she buried his erection in her mouth.

"Ooh. I know you don't like giving blowjobs."

"I swallowed," Shirley admitted.

My jaw dropped.

"My god, you are in love."

Shirley and I had always agreed that guys cumming in your mouth was unfathomable. Dis-gust-ing. Not happening. A pinky-promise to each other forever that we would never let a man humiliate us by putting their orgasm in our mouth. Or on our face.

"I told you," Shirley said in all seriousness.

"You drank it? You really drank it?"

Shirley nodded.

"How was it, how did it taste?" I asked, suddenly curious.

"Like lemonade."

"Bullshit!"

Shirley laughed. "Of course. I don't know. It was awful. Tastes like pee. But who cares? It was his. His stinking wriggling semen in my mouth. Swallowed. I'm in love."

"You're nuts!"

"I would suck his cock dry and drink every drop if he'd let me."

"Wow. Wow. Wow. Who are you?"

"A girl in love."

"Lust, Shirley, lust. And he's married."

"That makes it even more exciting. Stealing his cock from another pussy."

"Hey," I thought back. "Did you say 'I wasn't' on the pill?"

"Huh?"

"You said 'I wasn't on the pill'."

"I did?"

"You did. Are you now? Are you on the pill now?"

Shirley didn't answer. She went bright crimson.

"Oh my god. I don't believe you," I said, genuinely disappointed. How many times had we argued against the manipulation of women's bodies for the convenience of men not to have to wear condoms?

"Are we to cough up our vaginas and make all the effort to be sterile so boys can have no-consequence fun?" I recited back to her what we had said dozens of times.

"Well he's not going to use condoms. He's married. If I'm going to get him to fuck me, it's the only way."

"Pathetic," I summed it all up.

"I know," Shirley admitted. "It's karma for how I treat Davy."

"Exactly!"

——————

About three months in to her twice a week tutoring role, I was at coffee with Shirley and her part-time lover/boss. I was the only one that knew about them, their one social contact as a couple. Shirley was still on the pill and from what she said was getting good value for money.

"Every-time with a condom you need to open more. On the pill you can keep going as much as you want!"

"You're an advocate now, huh? Not just a secret user, you're a promoter?"

"Let me tell you," she said as the father blushed, "it's much nicer for the cum to stay in after he blows."

"Geez, Shirley, how do you two even find a place? You live with your mum and you live with...her student's mum," I said as a polite way of saying 'your wife'!

"I drive her home after tutoring," the father grinned.

"He has a van. The seats do this," she mimed the rest, the folding down bit. "With tinted windows."

"Okay. I shouldn't have asked. Enough. Talk about something else."

"There is something I wanted to ask you," the father started up. "I have a friend..."

"No!" I said immediately.

"Just hear me out," he insisted.

"I'm not doing what she does," I made very clear, but then looked at Shirley and added, "No offence, baby."

"Offence taken!"

The father and I ignored her.

"The guy needs help," the father tried to explain.

"Not from me."

"His wife left. Ran off. The rumor is she got hooked on drugs, all the parties up Above, then it got worse. Ran off with some other junkies to the coast."

"I feel for the guy, but nothing to do with me."

"He's got a seven year old daughter."

Silence.

I almost cried.

Junior primary kids are my specialty. The ones from homes that were broken when they were too young to remember are remarkably resilient. But to leave at seven...

"Oh god. That poor child."

"It's not going very well."

"Oh my god."

"He's hired a nanny who lives in, but they don't do anything really, and not after 6pm."

"An au pair? God, that's not enough. He needs more than that. Hasn't he got any relatives. A grandmother?"

"Only the wife's mother, and that's never been good. The kid's been in trouble at school. I thought maybe...Shirley said you're good with young ones. Maybe you could help?"

I didn't want to. I had no interest in walking into such a mess.

"But...what would I even do?"

This time Shirley answered.

"Monday, Wednesday, Friday. 6pm til 9pm. Read books, play games, work with the dad to help with her behaviors. He'd pay the same rate as I'm getting."

That was a lot to take in. 6 til 9 is all the evening. For three nights. What about dinner? Why til so late, what time does that poor little girl sleep? And it would cost a fortune at that rate. 450 a week, almost as much as a full-time job for a graduate. All I could see were problems.

"She's just 7," the father said. "It's been tough on her."

—————-

"Mr. Wills. It's Wendy Wu. I was given your number by..."

"I know, I know, thank you for calling. I've heard nice things about you."

"Oh."

"They told you about my situation?"

"Some of it, yes."

"That I'm looking for help?"

"Yes."

"You're interested?"

"Maybe. Possibly. Can I find out some more about it?"

"Of course. I'll buy you lunch tomorrow, explain everything. You can ask everything you need. Watson's cafe is near your school, do you have time tomorrow?"

"Midday through 1:45."

"12:15?"

"Okay."

"Cool. Is this your mobile that came through? I'll send a picture of me."

"Yes. Okay."

——————

Shirley had to dress conservatively to teach her math tutorial, but that didn't mean she had to wear underwear. As long as her top was thick enough to hide her nipples, she kept herself easily accessible under her clothes. They had a favorite spot behind the football stadium to park on the drive home. If it was warm out that night the father would lay her on a picnic table and do what he'd done back on the dining room table that first day. Flip her dress up and suck and finger her to orgasm. The location was isolated enough for Shirley to scream as loud as she needed.

"How come I don't get sick of this?" Shirley panted, coming down from her high. "I know it's coming; I know what to expect, but it gets me like new every time."

"Take your dress off. Get naked," the father demanded. He liked her to be nude. He would leave his clothes on with just his pants undone as he nailed her, fully naked and spread-eagled outside. Twenty years older than her, it was a trip down memory lane to go 'parking' with a girl like this twice a week. Back in his day he was terrified of blowing inside a girl, but with Shirley it was part of the fun. He'd carry her, sperm gurgling inside to the back of his van, seats down and watch her play with it. He'd hold her fingers and push them inside herself, telling her to masturbate. It took some time but eventually he trained her to finger herself to her own orgasm.

"It's never the same when I do it myself," she would whisper in his ear, "When you do it, it's more intense."

"But it's still good, right?"

"Yes," she smiled.

"Good. Drink it."

Shirley brought her fingers to her mouth and sucked the pussy juice clean off. Back and forth she went, dipping her fingers then bringing it up to drink. It was awful. Disgusting. What kind of girl drinks her own pussy? But he loved her for doing it, so she did it. She sucked his cock clean after their sex, too.

"How often do you have sex with your wife?" she had asked him one night.

"Most days."

"Huh? You do me here, then go back to do her there?"

"No! She sleeps early every day. She's out cold by the time I get back. Even if I took you straight home and back, she'd be sleeping. No, she's a morning-fuck chic. Likes to be woken up by a cock."

"She doesn't wear clothes to bed?"

"Just a top. No pants. Makes sure there's easy access."

"She likes sex?"

"Loves it. That woman literally lives for cock."

"Then why do you need me for?"

"Are you kidding me?" he laughed. "She's forty. You're twenty. You're a babe. Who wouldn't want to fuck the shit out of you!"

Shirley grinned and cuddled in close.

"You really like fucking me that much?"

"Of course I do," he said, kissing her gently.

"How is it different? Compared to her, I mean," Shirley asked, stroking his cock and kissing his lips in the full light of the van.

"Very different!" he laughed.

"How different?" Shirley insisted.

"Well...you're shaved, she hasn't ever done that. Your pussy is tight, hers is like a cave - years of fucking and fisting."

"You do that to her?"

"What? Fist her?"

"You do that?"

"She's big, she can take it," was all the reply the father gave.

"What else is different?" Shirley kept at him.

He turned to her on his side. Shirley kept tugging.

"You really want to know what's it's like with another woman?"

"It's the competition," she smiled, "I need to make sure my pussy is first choice."