I made sure that I had no other yards that day. Working twelve hour days to get all my clients done, to have the day clear. I awoke that morning with a rock hard erection that would not go down.
At 11.30 with sweaty palms and tenting khakis I knocked on the Dean's front door. I'd dressed as if it were a normal work day, knowing that's what she wanted. She was in a robe, nipples hard, jutting points in the slippery silk. My throat tightened and my breath came fast.
I'd expected her to take me down the hall to the bedroom but she didn't. Instead she led me out back to the kitchen. I'd seen it from the outside before, but I'd never actually been inside. It was blue and white; it kind of reminded me of a poster I'd seen of the Greek Isles.
I sat down on a stool at the bench. She poured me a glass of lemonade from a jug she'd taken from the fridge. I was grateful as my mouth was nervous dry. She was returning the jug to the fridge with her back to me when she said, "Are you ready for today Jacob?"
"Yes Mrs. D."
I thought she might sit beside me, or maybe kiss me but she didn't. She lay her palms flat down on the bench and stood opposite me. Staring right into my eyes.
"Are you really ready? To let go. To face up to your desires. Your needs?"
I couldn't lie to those eyes so I said, "I'm scared, but I want to. I want to do it."
"Good. There's no need for bravado here Jacob. You can tell me if you're scared. Or you don't want something. Anytime."
"Should I have some sort of safe word?"
She laughed and I blushed. I felt the burn rise up my neck all the way to my scalp. "Oh, Jacob, I'm sorry. I shouldn't laugh at you. It's just that you're so damn cute. Of course you should have a safe word. Let's make it ...white."
I nodded.
"You say white and we'll stop. Any other word...." she spoke slowly, "...No. Please. Don't. Stop. Help. All of those words will mean nothing. They'll be play words. Because when you say them you don't want to stop. You want us to go on—to tease you. To find that point where you can take no more...don't you Jacob?"
"Yes." The word came out like a husk. Dry and weightless. I took another drink.
"He doesn't know you're here. He doesn't know about today."
I'd been wondering about that. Whether she would tell him about me, or if she would just surprise him. I was a little worried, but trusted her to know what was best.
"That's why I asked if this is really what you wanted, because you'll have to convince him. You'll have to make him want this too."
I swallowed hard. My throat ached, like someone had wrapped a hand around my neck and squeezed hard. She came around my side of the bench and placed a cool hand on my cheek.
"He'll be surprised. He'll battle with his feelings. Just as you have about this, about the way you feel about him. Follow my lead and we'll convince him. We'll have to make it a game. Play. Do you like to play? Have you been teasing yourself? Playing while you waited to come to us?"
Because her words were hypnotizing and the way she held my eye compelling, I told her. Told her what I'd done with Mary-Jane. The games we'd played. She listening intently, her eyes on me the whole time. After I'd had finished she continued to watch me.
"All of us. All of us form our sexuality in our own way. How it's formed is important. I was lucky enough to find Lucas. Together we found our pleasure, played our games in safety. In love."
Her voice lowered, her hand shifted to rest on my shoulder, and then lightly it traced down my back. "The right kink. Watching. Spanking..." Mrs. D lifted her hand, and then swished it through the air. I flinched waiting for the contact that never came. "Kinks like those imprint on your sexuality. As solid as a handprint in wet concrete. They're with you forever."
She put her hand back on my shoulder and guided me around on the stool to face her, "Jacob. These imprints we make along our sexual journey, they can be a pleasure we have forever. A comfort we use to tease ourselves. A switch we use to turn ourselves on. Or they can be a lifelong torment. A source of shame. It depends very much on how we form those imprints. Who we do them with."
I understood she was saying something important. About how I was acting with Mary-Jane and more than that, how she would act with me. I nodded.
"You understand don't you Jacob? That you must be gentle with this girl. Let her know what she feels is natural. What she needs is not dirty. It's not wrong. You've ripped open a need in her and you must make sure it doesn't overwhelm her. We won't let it overwhelm you."
"Thank you."
She leaned into me and pressed a cool kiss on my lips.
"Come now. It's time. We'll wait for him in the bedroom. He'll be home soon."
* * * *
I heard his footsteps down the hall. It was only when Mrs. D lay a hand across my thigh that I realized I'd been nervously tapping my foot. I stilled myself and waited. The door opened with a bang. It was clear that he'd been expecting some game, some kind of play. He'd come home in the role of the angry husband—like I'd seen him that first time. His shoulders squared, his chest out, hands clenched tight at his sides. He faltered when he saw me. Stopped and stared.
"Lissy?" He said her name like a question and he looked from me to her.
When she got up from where we'd been sitting on the side of the bed I followed her lead and stood too.
"Jacob's here to tell you something. To confess." She put her hand on my back, just above my butt and pushed me forward. Towards him. I knew then what she wanted me to do.
"I'm sorry Mr. D."
"Sorry Jacob, what for?" He sounded uncertain.
