If this story pleases you, send me an encouraging email and I will continue the storyline. This is a work of original fiction. Do not copy it or use it without the express written permission of the author. Enjoy. – moreau
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"Omigosh, we're gonna have sex talk? A sex talk!!" Desiree gripped the teddy bear tighter around its middle as she squealed out the words, and I wished for a few moments that I could be that teddy.
How I ended up sitting in a 22 year-old's college apartment started innocently enough. I suggested to Desiree, a former high school student of mine, that I visit her as she was completing her university's teacher training program. Having recently broken up with her boyfriend, Desiree said that seeing a familiar face would be "just the cheer up she needed." Plus, I volunteered to show her a few teaching tricks for a mock lesson she was preparing for presentation.
When Desiree answered the door, I wasn't quite prepared for the transformed filipina beauty who greeted me. She smiled broadly, dazzling white teeth against tanned skin, and flung herself around my neck before I could offer her my hand to shake. Definitely not the restrained, shy girl whose simmering eyes and pencil nibbling tricks had distracted me an entire year of 11th grade English.
In addition to the crush of her breasts against my chest, I was nearly smothered by a strong strawberry fragrance from her hair. Her long chestnut colored hair was gathered up in a tight ponytail with a black scrungee. I hadn't seen Desiree in nearly five years, so her enthusiastic greeting caught me off guard. I relaxed and enjoyed her fragrant embrace. Our cheeks touched – it was very sweet hug.
Since it was a Southern California summer day, I was wearing athletic shorts and tennis shoes. Desiree's outfit was too cute. Blue cotton velour shorts that barely covered her butt cheeks and knee-high athletic socks with a matching blue piping that made her toned legs look nice and long. Desiree's olive sun-drenched skin made her stunning filipina features even more exotic. She wore a pale blue t-shirt that rounded out the sporty look, although those shorts spelled out "playmate" more than "play ball."
"You look great, Desiree." Like a filipina Carmen Electra.
"And you, too, Mr...."
"Ah, it's Peter now. We're not in 11th grade English any more, are we?"
"Definitely not. Can I pour you some wine?" Here was further proof that we were in a space far away from my 11th grade class.
"Sure, pour away."
We chatted in her living room like old friends. The wine poured and the conversation flowed. About how my English class was her favorite in high school, about how the other filipina girls would gossip about me. Desiree confessed she once confided in a friend how much she enjoyed my class, and then she was teased mercilessly as "teacher's pet" and that "stupid filipina girl with a crush on her teacher." At least that explained the mystery of why she suddenly stopped participating in class much.
"So what's the rest of your place look like?"
"Have you had enough wine?" Desiree asked.
"Very nice, a little buzz going, too."
"Me, too," she giggled. We both stood, me a little wobbly. "Let me show you my room and you tell me about treaching ticks."
"Treaching what?"
"Oh, no, no, no, teaching, I meant teaching." Desiree reached out and grabbed my arm and covered her mouth with her other hand, laughing at her own word salad.
"Treaching?" I repeated. "You gonna be gate treacher soon like me?"
Desiree bent her head down and laughed at my teasing, and in tossing her head back up, struck me on the side of the face with her whipping ponytail.
"Ouch! Is this one of those filipina martial arts moves I've heard about?"
In response, Desiree ducked behind me and started pushing my shoulder blades, pushing me, towards her bedroom. "My wine – I want my wine."
"Walk forward," she ordered, "it's safer in front of me. I'll get your wine." I resisted her pushing, but her hands were firm, the slender fingers pushing against my shoulders and also feeling at the same time.
"Gosh, Peter, you work out or what? You have a nice muscles in your back, and look at those legs..."
Desiree caught herself and stopped mid-sentence. I liked the praise, who wouldn't? I found myself shoved into her room while Desiree went back for the wine.
Her room was little girl innocence all the way. Pastel colored comforter, frilly throw pills and too many stuffed animals. I noticed a corkboard with what looked like samples of her college papers pinned to it. When I got closer I noticed that it was a collage of essays and creative writing pieces that Desiree penned in my 11th grade English class. I looked over my hand-written comments to make sure they stood the test of time: "Your perceptions are far more mature what I usually see in Junior Honors English – you are a keen and mature observer of human nature."
"Don't look at those," Desiree suddenly reappeared with our two wine glasses, setting them down on her nightstand. Was that panic in her voice? I continued to look over her papers. Wait a sec. Someone had written something in response to my comment. I began reading, "I am mature enough to see in you..."
"NO!" Desiree inserted herself between me and the corkboard. "You can't read that! Sit over there!" I was getting used to all the commands. It was bossy and charming at the same time.
"Where?"
"Next to Boo" she pointed at her bed.
"Boo who?"
"Boo, brown bear on my pillow."
"Which one is Boo? The bed's got a whole zoo on it."
"Oh, PETER!" Desiree forcefully pushed against my chest, driving me backward toward her full-size bed and away from her secret corkboard shrine, or whatever it was.
I kicked off my tennis shoes and sat on her bed. "Is this a safe distance?"
"That's just fine. Sit there. These are personal property," referring to the papers.
"So, what's going on, Desiree?" I leaned back on my elbows, ready to change the topic. My legs were tanned and toned from so many century bike rides.
I caught Desiree's eyes give my thighs a once over before she plopped herself down on the bed in a hurdler's stretch. That's one leg straight out, the other with the heel pointed inward towards her crotch. I glanced at her too brief shorts and could almost see her private parts. It was a hot view of a hottie.
"Well, Peter, my boyfriend just broke up with me."
"He broke it off?"
"Yeah, I got dumped."
"He should have his head examined..."
"Well, maybe we weren't good so together. He wanted me to do things and I just couldn't."
"Oh." At least she's still a virgin I thought. "Did he want you to sell Boo on ebay or something?"
"Always so funny." Desiree gave my thigh a playful slap. Her burgundy-colored nail job matched that the shade of her lipstick. Such sensual lips.
"No, no, no," she added, giving my thigh three little pats with each "no." She rested her fingertips on my thigh, and I was suddenly aware that I'd come to half staff, a tent forming in my black shorts. I turned towards Desiree on the bed and leaned on one elbow. Maybe she wouldn't notice my forming erection in this position.
"It was personal stuff I couldn't do."
"Okay, I give – what was it?" I asked, Desiree now drawing very small circles on my thigh.
"Gosh, I don't even talk to girlfriends about this."
I reached across Desiree, my entire chest sliding across hers briefly, to take a sip from my wine glass on her nightstand. It was a bold move and Desiree didn't push me away. I slid back to my position.
"What's wrong with your girlfriends?"
"They all know each other, and they know Tony..."
"Your ex?"
"My ex. And anything I say gets back to them."
"I got it. You remember how in 11th grade everything I told everyone that their papers were confidential?"
"Yes, I remember."
"Okay, so you can tell me whatever it is, and it stays between you and me. Same confidentiality. You'll feel better once you get it off your chest, AND your friends will never know what you told me."
