Paulas Retreat

For John and Paula.

**************************

Monday.

Paula gave her husband John a wave as she pulled the car out of the driveway, blowing a kiss for good measure before checking her watch. It was a good two and a half hour drive to the hotel where the teacher's conference was being held, and Paula knew she would have to step on it to make it on time to register.

With their girls being older, it was much easier on John for her to attend these sessions now, which were necessary for Paula to maintain her teaching credentials. Luckily she only had to endure it every four or five years, and in a way Paula was looking forward to it this time. With the girls in their late teens they didn't much want Mom around the house anyway. As for John, most likely he would be playing around on the computer much of the time anyway.

Paula got to the hotel in Oxford with about 20 minutes to spare and had just enough time to register and find her way to the conference room where the introductory session was being held. She saw a few somewhat familiar faces but no one she knew well so she settled for a seat off to the side of the room and tried to stay awake through an hour of boring speeches.

At the end of the presentation, Paula was shaken out of her boredom when the speaker introduced a man who would be directing the rest of the session. An imposing looking man in both appearance and gait strode up to the podium and surveyed the room before speaking. While it had been about 20 years, Paula recognized the man immediately, and she sat up straight in her seat as a reflex action in memory of earlier days.

Professor Wright. Mr. Wright, Paula's favorite instructor from her first year at the university. His familiar booming bass voice filled the room and Paula's ears, and he spoke so forcefully and dynamically that the microphone was soon discarded as being unnecessary.

Paul Wright took command of the room right away, and Paula noticed the most of the others in the room were quickly shaken from their lethargy and were energized much like she had found herself.

The years had been very kind to Professor Wright, Paula noted as she watched him intently. At about 6'4" he was always an imposing man, and now that his thinning, reddish brown hair had gone completely, replaced by a smooth and gleaming bald dome, he was even more so. Mr. Wright seemed to have lost a bit of weight as well, not that he was all that heavy to begin with, and he certainly didn't look anywhere near the 60 or so years he must be now.

Paula tried to make eye contact with Mr. Wright, but his eyes were moving around the room rapidly, keeping everyone on the edges of their seats, almost daring them to not pay attention. It was his style, and Paula noted that it was still working well on her, even though she was no longer the shy and awkward student she had been when she had last heard him speak.

It wasn't until the end of the day when Paula finally got to speak to Professor Wright. As the class broke up, Paula walked up to the podium, where the professor was shuffling the papers he had been using in his presentation. Paula was certain that he would be surprised to see her, if he recognized her, that is. After all, it had been 20 years, and Paula never saw herself as the type of girl in terms of either looks or achievement to be all that unforgettable.

So Paula was delighted when Mr. Wright raised his head, a big smile on his face, and greeted her warmly.

"Paula! How good to see you!" Mr. Wright said, his booming voice tempered for the first time all day. "You look more beautiful than ever!"

"Oh gee!" Paula said, momentarily stunned at him remembering her. "It's great to see you too. I wasn't sure you'd remember me."

"You must be kidding," Mr. Wright said, holding out his hand.

Paula's sweaty little hand disappeared inside the huge paw of the professor, and he clasped it with both of his hands as he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

"I never forget a face," Mr. Wright said adding, "Especially that of my favorite student."

They began chatting, and finally Mr. Wright suggested they have dinner together.

"I'd love too!" Paula gushed excitedly. "My bags are still in the car because I got here just in time for the seminar. In fact, I haven't even gotten my room yet."

"Well, let's meet in the dining room in about an hour," Paul said, and Paula agreed.

Paula registered and had her bags brought up to her room. The room was the traditional chain variety, nothing special, and Paula decided against changing her clothes, just touching up her make-up and applying a touch of cologne before hurrying down to the restaurant. Besides, Paula had felt overdressed in the peach pantsuit she had worn, compared to most of the other teachers who had dressed casually, and she would look fine for dinner.

Two and a half hours later, Paula and Mr. Wright were into the second bottle of wine, and Paula was having a wonderful time. The crowd in the restaurant had thinned out considerably, and since it seemed like they would be there for a while longer, Paula slipped off the blazer she was wearing and set it on the curved bench of the booth they were sitting at.

"So you married that young fellow you were seeing back at school?" Mr. Wright asked.

"John? Yes, we had been going steady since I was sixteen and here we are today still together with two lovely girls, 16 and 14."

"I'm very happy for you," Mr. Wright said, placing his hand on Paula's bare forearm and giving her a little squeeze. "No problems or anything? No separations, affairs or the like?"

"Goodness no," Paula said. "Well, we have our share of squabbles I suppose, like everybody does. I drive him crazy by always putting myself down, and he's always on that computer, or so it seems."

"A workaholic I take it?" Mr. Wright mused, his fingers softly stroking Paula's arm.

"Work? Goodness no!" Paula exclaimed with a giggle. "Boys do like to play though."

"Games?"

"Well, actually I came across these pictures of women on his computer. You know, naked women."

"From magazines?"

"No, that's the thing," Paula said. "They were just regular women, and they sent John pictures of themselves naked. Very boldly posed too. Turns out he had been chatting with some of them on-line. Can you imagine?"

"Can I imagine?" Mr. Wright said. "No, not if I had someone else in the house. Especially someone as beautiful as you. With Olivia gone, I'm afraid that I don't have that luxury."

"I am so sorry about her passing," Paula said, putting her hand over his. "I remember how close you were to her, and how she would stop by school to see you. I'm sorry I hadn't heard about it."

"Thank you Paula, I appreciate that," Mr. Wright said before returning to the subject. "Now tell me, what exactly would your husband do with the pictures once these women sent them to him."

"Uh, I don't know," Paula said, looking as if the thought had not occurred to her previously. "Looked at them I guess."

"Just looked at them?" Mr. Wright said with an upraised eyebrow. "And why is it that these women would just send him pictures of themselves out of the blue?"

"Not really sure of that either," Paula said, swirling around the wine that was left in her glass. "John wasn't really clear about that. We had quite a row over that."

"I wouldn't blame the lad too much," Mr. Wright said. "It's natural for us males to be curious about such things. Perhaps he's sent pictures of himself to them as well, as sort of a trade. Or maybe pictures of you."

"Me?" Paula said with alarm, suddenly remembering that day they got their digital camera and John had talked her into posing for some candid pictures. Luckily John said he had gotten rid of them right after they had looked at them. Good thing too, because they showed exactly how bad she looked without clothes on.

"No," Paula said decisively. "There wouldn't be any pictures of me anywhere like that."

"I wouldn't think so," Mr. Wright said with a smile. "If there were, I'd be giving your man a ring and buying a set off of him."

Paula chuckled nervously and was happy that Mr. Wright had moved his hand off of her arm for the moment, although Paula now felt the warmth of his knee against her thigh as they sat near each other on the curved cushioned bench.

"Well," Paula said, trying to change the subject. "I'm here because of you, you know, Mr. Wright. It's you that influenced me to become a teacher, and I'm happy that I did."

"That's flattering," Mr. Wright said. "Tonight's first lesson is that you have to drop the Mr. Wright moniker. It's Paul."

"Oh, alright."

"Alright what?" Mr. Wright asked.

"Alright Paul," Paula replied meekly, feeling odd at calling him by anything other than Mr. or Professor for the first time.

"That's better," Mr. Wright responded. "Paul - Paula. I think there was a musical duo by that name back when I was a child. Anyway, it was very nice that I was a factor in your decision. Since you've been so candid with me, I feel the need to reciprocate and tell you something as well."

"Oh, go right ahead." Paula said, raising her glass to her lips before pausing. "I know you aren't going to tell me that I was your greatest student."

"No, although you were quite good," Mr. Wright said. "What I was going to say was that I had taught thousands of young women over the years. Brilliant ones and dullards. Beautiful ones and some not so attractive. Young women that had practically thrown themselves at me as well."

"Oh really?" Paula said, trying to remember some of the likely suspects from her class.

"Oh yes, most definitely, for whatever reason. Probably to get a better grade."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Paula said. "You're a very striking man."

"Thank you dear," Mr. Wright said. "Well, out of all of those young ladies, you were the only one I ever wanted to sleep with."

The clatter that arose from Paula setting her empty wine glass down abruptly on her fork, and the resulting domino effect of salt shakers crashing down on plates, caused little reaction in the almost deserted dining room, but made Paula blush.

"Sorry," Paula said as she tried to restore order to the table.

"Never mind that," Paul said, and asked Paula if she would like more wine, and Paula shook her head violently no in response.

"I certainly didn't mean to upset you Paula," Paul continued.

"It's alright Mr. Wr..."

"I figured you must have been aware of it back then. I'm sure half the class must have had an idea that there was something going on between us. Tried to keep it under wraps as best I could, but I'm not sure how well I did."

"Why me?" Paula said, her face gaining color as she tried to maintain some composure. "I was so ordinary, and there were girls in that class who were absolute knockouts."

"Boring," Mr. Wright said. "At least they were to me. They were all trying so hard to show everything they had. Wearing next to nothing and flaunting themselves shamelessly. You were different."

"I hardly think so."

"First day you showed up in my class you caught my eye. A slender and shapely young lass dressed in a white long sleeved blouse with black slacks. You sat way in the back of the room. Do you remember where you sat after that first day?"

"Front row," Paula said softly. "You said you wanted to arrange the class so that..."

"Rubbish," Mr. Wright replied, his hand going back onto Paula's forearm as it sat on the table. "I made up some excuse so that you would end up right in front of me. You had shoulder length strawberry blonde hair, a little longer than now but about the same shade."

"Fresh from the bottle," Paula said nervously.

"I know," Mr. Wright said casually. "I remember that one day when you came to class wearing a white and grey checked skirt. First time I had seen your legs, it was. A little on the slender side but very shapely. You were wearing lacy white socks that came up just over your ankles."

"I remember that skirt," Paula said slowly.

"Not as well as I do, I'm sure," Mr. Wright countered. "My eyes traveled up those shapely legs, to those soft pale thighs and then something caught my eye. You were wearing white panties... very white. It was the combination of it being a sunny day outside, those bright white panties and your pale skin that allowed me to see the hair that sprouted out from the sides of your panties. Golden brown hair that had escaped the elastic of your undies and was exposed for me to enjoy."

Paula jumped in the seat as if she had been poked with a cattle prod. Mr. Wright's hand on her arm was the only thing keeping Paula in her seat, or so it seemed to her. Beneath his touch, her arm had become a sea of goose bumps, and the soft pale down on her forearms stood up straight at a result.

"I... I... didn't..."

"I know you weren't aware. That's what made it so special. There you were, and innocent young thing of - what- 17?"

"18, just turned" Paula squeaked.

"18 then. There you were, so studiously trying to comprehend my boring lecture on the Moors, and blissfully unaware that I was looking at the hair between your legs. I spent the rest of the day - the year - hell, the rest of my life trying to imagine what you looked like under those panties. All that hair on such a delicate little flower."

Mr. Wright handed the panicked woman his glass of water, as Paula looked ready to faint, and she grabbed it eagerly and gulped it down. Her face was beet red from embarrassment, and Paul's voice went even lower than before as it went on.

"Hope you're not ashamed at what I've told you. About your pussy hair that is," Paul said, watching Paula's face become even more shocked at his using such a coarse term.

"Fact is, I'm very attracted to women with a bit of hair down there. Very very attracted. The more the better. Nothing to be ashamed of at all. I'll bet your husband doesn't mind it, does he?"

Paula shook her head no, not knowing what to say. The conversation had taken such a violent and unexpected turn that she was rendered speechless, and Paula wondered where it was headed.

"No, I'll bet he doesn't mind the hair at all. Not one bit. Maybe we're kindred souls, the two of us. Probably a lot of the women who send him pictures have a lot of pussy hair themselves. The lonely boy is probably "studying" them right now as we speak."

"I studied you Paula, after that day. Waiting for another chance to look up between your legs. Hoping against hope that you would wear that skirt again, only without panties the next time. Wondering whether your pussy hair was as soft as it appeared to be, or whether it was a bit coarse. Trying to guess whether it grew up near your navel, and deep down between your legs right down to your anus."

Paula's body was dripping sweat despite the coolness of the room, and she wanted to jump up and run out of the room. Back to her room. Back home. Back to her husband.

She stayed.

"Winter came and went, and as the weather grew warmer the clothes got skimpier. I longed for you to come into class bra-less, so I could get a look at those pert breasts of yours."

"Not much there, I'm afraid," Paula chirped in a faux-carefree tone. "What's there has become a victim of gravity."

"I peeked whenever the opportunity arose. Savoring the rare glimpses of your delicate cleavage and trying to catch you at a moment that exposed you more. Toward the end of the term you started wearing sleeveless blouses, and I hoped in vain that you were one of those girls that let the hair under your arms grow, as that would have driven me mad."

"You weren't, of course," Mr. Wright continued. "That was alright however, because your arms were just spectacular as they were. The skin so golden, toned and firm, with just a hint of muscularity at the bicep. On days when your arms were bare I made up reasons for the class to raise their hands so I could look under your arm as you raised your hand high."

Paula swallowed hard as Professor Wright continued, her deep voice calm and measured as he continued his graphic description of her.

"Your armpits were exquisite. Petite little hollows with skin a little paler that the rest of your arm, sometimes glistening with a faint coat of perspiration. Usually looking as smooth as silk, but occasionally coated with just a hint of stubble. I wondered what it would feel like to have my tongue sliding through your armpit on one of those days, feeling the fuzz..."

"Will there be anything else?" a voice asked from their side. The waiter, apparently wanting to call it a night, came at a time when Paula was ready to faint, or cry, or - who knows what?

"That will be all," Paul said calmly and handed his man his credit card after waving away Paula's move toward her purse.

"My treat," Paul said. "Besides, what else does a lonely widower have to do with the money?"

"Well, it was a lovely dinner, and it was really great to see you again," Paula said as she rose off the clammy vinyl seat.

"Tomorrow night, then? " Paul said, although the question sounded more like a statement of fact.

"I don't know, because..."

"I don't have you in any of my classes tomorrow," Paul announced as they went to the elevator lobby. "Not until the next day."

"How do you know?"

"I know quite a lot," Paul said as he held the elevator door for her. "I pay attention to the things that really matter."

Paula pressed 3 and was relieved when Paul pressed 7, not knowing exactly what he had in mind.

"Your floor," Paul announced at the doors stayed open for a moment without Paula making a move toward them.

"Oh, right."

"Tomorrow night then," Paul reminded her, reaching over and giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "I'll leave you a note with the particulars."

Paula nodded and headed unsteadily down the hall to her room. Closing and bolting the door behind her, she leaned back against it before throwing her stuff on the bed.

"Must call John!" Paula said aloud to herself, and when she did it took many rings before John answered, out of breath. He sounded winded and maybe a little miffed, like he'd been interrupted or something.

Probably her imagination, Paula thought as they spoke briefly before saying good night, and got into her nightie and went to bed. Sleep would not come for her, even though she felt drained, so Paula got up and went to the bathroom and turned on the shower. Lifting the nightie over her head, she was startled to see her reflection in the full length mirror behind the door,

Paula's eyes went to her breasts; the modest cones once so firm and perky that now drooped with the passing of time, her plump aureoles with their fat pink nipples seeming to drag them down even further. Not far enough to hide the faint stretch marks that gave away her motherhood, she noted sadly, and although Paula knew in her heart they were barely visible they stood out to her like they glowed.

"If Mr. Wright could see this mess..." Paula mumbled to herself as she looked at her image. Her eyes strayed to the dense jungle of hair that surrounded her womanhood, even spreading slightly over to the insides of her thighs.

Funny how Mr. Wright had been looking at her like that back then and she hadn't even noticed, Paula mused as she stepped into the shower and let the warm spray wash some of the tension away. Undressing her with his eyes, so to speak.

It was also curious that Mr. Wright sounded so much like John did when he described her pubic hair. She certainly did attract men with similar tastes. Paula had always felt cursed by the unruly mat of hair that covered the area between her legs, and now it seemed that it was her most treasured asset.

As the shower rained down on Paula, her hands strayed to that furry delta, and before long she was leaning against the wall of the shower as her orgasm washed over her, making her knees weak as she shook.