Professor Gillian Passes the Test
The days crept by until finally it was Saturday night and Joe and Gillian were back at the farmhouse. Angela outlined the evening's proceedings as she and Peggy walked the couple down a hall that led to the large wing built on to the back of the farmhouse. For the first time, Joe and Gillian encountered other people at the house—three women in their late 30s, impeccably dressed in body-hugging silk dresses and five-inch heels. They strode down the hall with the same confidence and swagger as Angela, who said to them as they passed, "Ladies, have fun with the Taylors and the Gundersons."
One of the women, a blonde with long, straight hair down her back, laughed and said over her shoulder, "And with each other!"
They all giggled, including Angela.
She had already explained that Gillian would be entertaining three men, and that a man named Davis—the owner of a highly successful startup that had recently gone public for hundreds of millions of dollars—was a club member. The other two were his guests.
"I'm so glad that you wanted to jump in head first," Angela had said. "Some women need to be brought along slowly, and some never reach this point. But not you. I can tell. You're like me. You burn to know your limits, and to push beyond them."
Now as they walked to Gillian's appointment, Angela addressed Joe. "You'll be in the viewing room this evening while your wife performs," she explained. "Peggy, will you escort Joe?"
Peggy beamed at Joe. "It will be my pleasure."
"Peggy can stay with you while you watch, if you'd like her to," Angela said.
Joe stammered, "Um, I don't know." He looked at Peggy, whose short dress clung to her tight body. Then he glanced at Gillian, who patted his arm.
"It's OK baby. She's cute. Have fun."
Joe kissed her cheek. "You too—but not too much fun. Don't go falling for one of these guys."
Angela laughed. "She won't, I guarantee it. But I think she'll enjoy herself more than she can imagine. And I think you will too."
Joe followed Peggy to a small room with two armchairs, a bar with several bottles of top shelf liquor, and a double bed. The arm chairs faced one wall, into which was set a wide window that looked into a room next door. It appeared to be some sort of classroom. Several student desks—three of them occupied by men in their 30s—were arranged in a semicircle facing a larger desk and chair in front, apparently for the teacher. On the wall behind the desk was a closed door.
Peggy gestured to Joe to sit in one of the chairs and she took the chair next to him. She crossed her bare leg toward him, dangling her backless heel from her toes, and put a hand on his thigh. She smiled. "This is going to be so much fun!" she said with a giggle.
Joe glanced at the men in the room, but they made no indication that they had heard Peggy. She laughed again. "They can't hear us or see us. It's one-way. To them it looks like a whiteboard in the classroom. She pointed to the speakers mounted in the corner of their little bedroom. But we can hear them perfectly."
In the hallway on the other side of that closed door, Angela gave Gillian a final pep talk as she stroked her long fingers through Gillian's dark hair.
"You look exquisite," Angela breathed. "I'd eat you right here in the hallway if I could."
"Oh God," Gillian whispered. She wondered if Angela was trying to put her sexual energy into overdrive. If so, it was working. She was having trouble taking a deep breath, and she knew her face was flushed.
Angela said, "The most important thing is to have fun. The more fun you have, the more relaxed you will be. Don't think of it as a performance, just let it happen. That makes it even more exciting for our clients, and you will enjoy it more as well. I have been with all of these men. They are good people and are here to have a marvelous experience. You my darling are going to give it to them." She flashed her radiant smile, and nudged Gillian toward the door.
"Stay in character as long as you can at first, but at some point early on you can just forget about it. I think you'll know when. From there it's all just good sex."
She gently squeezed Gillian's bottom. "Now go make me proud."
Gillian entered the classroom, pulling the door closed behind her, and the three men stood up. Gillian took stock. A handsome, white executive type with sandy hair, probably Davis. A tall black man, equally handsome and more athletically built. And a shorter man, perhaps not as fit or attractive as the other two, but with a pleasant, eager face. A regular guy, Gillian thought, and not bad-looking either. She realized that this night was going to be very special for him. She felt the tingle between her legs. It had been there all day—all week, in fact. Ever since the first meeting with Angela.
She knew that the three men were assessing her, too: her dark hair pulled back and pinned behind her head, black glasses, sheer white blouse covered by the jacket of her black suit. Her short skirt stopped at mid-thigh, giving way to black stockings and four-inch black pumps. The pumps echoed as she walked to her desk and settled into the chair behind it. The men were staring, covering every inch of her with their eyes.
"Gentlemen," Gillian said. "You may be seated. I am Professor Carson and I will be filling in for the rest of this term. I have reviewed the class's work and while some of the women are outstanding performers—"
The handsome man, Davis, laughed.
Gillian eyed him over her glasses but ignored the interruption. She continued, "While the women are outstanding performers, you three men will need to work long and hard if you hope to earn a passing grade." She eyed them over her glasses,
"Long...and...hard." It was corny, she thought, but it had the desired effect. The men were smiling, their eyes smouldering. "I called you here today so that I could begin tutoring you."
Davis was murmuring something to the two men, who were chuckling in appreciation.
"Is there a problem, Mister...Davis, is it?"
"Well, yes, Professor Carson. Frankly, we're wondering if there are some things that we could teach you, you being new and all."
"Mr. Davis, I may be new, but I assure you I am fully capable and have a great deal of experience. I don't know what the three of you could possibly teach me."
"Well, I kind of have to show you. Can I come up there?"
"Please do." Gillian gestured for him to come forward.
Davis rose and Gillian thought, with a nervous flutter in her belly, OK, here we go. She felt her heart beat a little faster.
Davis walked behind her and she held her breath. He said, "You see, students like us are easily distracted. We find it hard to concentrate, especially with a professor like you, who is so ..."
He removed the pin from her hair and let it tumble down past her shoulders. "Who is so very new," he finished, removing her glasses. "We need a chance to get to know you better. So we can devote our full attention to you."
He pulled her chair back and wheeled her out from behind her desk and parked her in front of his two friends, locking the wheels with his foot.
Gillian exclaimed, "I don't know what you think you're doing, Mr. Davis, but I'm a professor here and I won't tolerate any shenanigans from you boys."
"I understand completely, professor," Davis said. "Would you stand up for a minute?"
"Very well, if this is part of my—instruction." She stood. She vaguely felt Davis fumbling with the top of her skirt, then heard the zipper go down.
"What on earth!" she cried. Davis grabbed her hands before she could catch her skirt, and it slid down her legs.
The two men at their desks whistled and clapped. Davis held Gillian's arms behind her back. The top half of her suit was still intact, but her skirt was now at her ankles, exposing her stockings, garters, and the tail of her blouse, which covered the front of her panties.
"This is very irregular, sir," Gillian said sternly, but Davis was busy. He had released her hands and was now lifting her jacket off her shoulders. The white blouse, they now saw, was nearly transparent and appeared to be at least one size too small. She wore no bra, and her large red nipples had grown stiff against the silky fabric.
Davis reached around her and began working open the buttons, exposing more cleavage as he descended.
Her voice now shaky, Gillian said, "I really don't see how removing my clothing is contributing to the educational experience."
