Sweet Jonathan

Chapter 2

"So...I've sort of found someone."

"Shut up! You have? Who is he? Is he cute? How far have you gone with him? Are you having sex?! Shut up! You are, aren't you? You are such a slut!" My friend Jess's energetic reply came through the phone.

Jess and I had been good friends since college when we roomed together for two years. She was always more man-crazy than I was, and I wasn't surprised by her outburst.

I laughed out loud. "Speak for yourself, there, Sweetie. But yes," I said, calming down, "he's definitely a cutie, although he's a little different from the kinds of guys I usually date. Actually..." I let the word linger, a little apprehensive about how she'd react, "he's one of my students."

"Oh my God, Mia, what are you thinking?" she whispered, sounding scandalized, "you know teachers go to prison for that!"

"Shush, it's not like that," I waved a hand as though she could see me, "he's an adult."

"Well, that's something, at least. But still, Babe, it's so risky. Look, you know I want you to be happy, but you could still lose your job."

"You think I don't know that? I'm not some silly twenty-something anymore, and Jess, I need this."

Her tone became sympathetic, "Well, you're right about that. Nick messed you up pretty bad. But I just don't want to see you get hurt. This guy, I mean, what's so special about him that would make you swim in the kiddie pool? Tell me about him."

"Mmmm, well...thick head of hair; fair skin that makes his big, dreamy ocean-blue eyes pop right out at you; sexy little dimple on his left cheek; cute butt." I was getting a little warm thinking about him. Sitting on the couch, I pushed off my heels, sending them tumbling to the carpet while I started rubbing one foot with the other.

"Hmm, sounds yummy. Good arms? You know I like a guy with arms."

"Yeah, yeah, I know your type. No, he's not huge, but I can tell he's pretty cut."

"You can tell, huh? So, I take it you haven't gotten him to take you all the way yet then?"

"No, we haven't, perv." I chuckled in response.

"Shut up, you know you love me."

I missed Jess. It was a shame she lived over an hour away now. We used to have so much fun getting guys to buy us drinks at bars. Back in our younger days. Those wild times after I finally dumped Nick and went crazy for a while.

"I do love you, Sweetie, you know that. No, Jonathan-"

"Jonathan," she cut me off, faking an erudite voice, "don't call me 'Jon', it's 'Jonathan'."

I laughed at that, she always knew how to pick me up, "It's not like that. He just prefers to go by Jonathan."

"Okay, so then tell me about

Jonathan.

"

"Yeah, so, here's the thing: he's really shy. Painfully shy."

"Oh, God, sister, are you feeling alright? I thought you hated shy boys."

"Well, I usually do. Most of the time they're just creepy, but Jonathan's not like that. He's sweet and charming; he just doesn't say much. And oh my

gawd

, Jess, what he's packing down below..."

She cackled in reply for long minutes, and I had to hold the phone away from my head to keep my hearing intact.

"Oh...oh God...oh God that's rich! Ding ding ding, mystery solved! Mia the cougar found her a shy little boy toy. One she could help to

come out of his shell

and take care of all of her

special needs

. Hooo! This is too good!" she laughed hysterically for another moment before finally settling down, "Tell me, does he know about you yet?"

"Not exactly." I said breezily, "but I did tell him a little about Nick's...proportions. And yeah, I might have said that I enjoyed those things about him." My tone had a bit of a defensive edge. "But that's not all I'm attracted to, Jess. He's really the sweetest guy, and he says the nicest things to me. I mean, yeah," I conceded, "they're coming out of the mouth of an eighteen-year-old... It's not exactly poetry, but I really like him Jess, I think he might have a shot at being the one."

She sobered immediately. "Really? That good? Huh," she considered, "tell me, does he know you're interested?"

"Ehhhh," I hedged, "not really? I've dropped hints," I rushed on, "and told him what kind of qualities that my ideal guy has. And after some of the things I've been willing to do to help bring him 'out of his shell', as you said, it wouldn't take a rocket scientist to figure it out."

"C'mon, Mia," she chided, "he's eighteen! He'd probably still have no clue if you asked him out on a date."

Considering that for a second, I had to admit she was right.

Jess continued, "If there's one thing I remember about guys at that age -- or any other for that matter -- it's that you basically need to draw a damned map to get them to figure just about anything out. That, and how quickly they pop!" More peals of laughter.

I chuckled sympathetically, "Oh, stop. To be honest, you're probably right. But I've got to watch how forward I am with this one, Jess. I told you he's shy, but that doesn't capture just how much I'm talking about here."

"Jeez, Mia, you don't have a boyfriend, you've got a project."

She backpedaled at my silent, sullen response. "Sorry, that was mean. Really, I'm glad you're happy, Babe, but I care about you," her voice was tender, "I don't want this young guy -- as great as he sounds -- hurting your feelings because he doesn't notice you noticing him. Or is too scared to do anything about it if he did -- which, let's face it, with your tits is the more likely case, you lucky bitch. And don't forget: you

are

a good deal older than him. You need to think about what that could mean later in life if you're really serious about this."

She did have a point, but I knew I could help him grow up and free the gentle, confident man locked inside by that veneer of doubt his mother had crushed him with for years. The age thing didn't worry me. By the time he was thirty, I'd still be in my mid-forties. Plenty of couples made that work.

"I know, Sweetie, I know. But hey, I wanted to talk shop with you for a second, if you don't mind."

"Oh?"

"Yes, it relates to Jonathan. I was hoping you could give me your opinion as a nurse."

"Is he okay with you sharing this information?"

Say what you would about Jess; she could clown around with the worst of them, but when it came to her job, she was nothing if not professional. I admired that about her.

"Jess, I haven't given you anything more than a first name -- well, besides the fact that he's in my class -- and you live an hour away. I don't think he'd mind since it's very unlikely he'll ever cross paths with you."

This was only a half-truth, really, and in fact, I

was

a little concerned I was crossing a line here, but I just wanted to get a little information in case there was something medically wrong with the boy. The quick search online I'd done showed that cases of extremely high libido and excessive semen production could have been caused by hormonal imbalances or other glandular issues. While possibly benign, they could also mask larger problems that might cause long-term complications.

"Okay, if you're sure," she didn't sound completely convinced, "what seems to be the problem?"

"So, you know how teenagers are pretty horny most times, right?"

"That's putting it mildly."

"Well, he seems to be on another level."

"Really?" Jess's voice took on a randy edge again.

I spent the next five minutes telling her most of what he'd told me, feeling guiltier with each detail I passed on to her that Jonathan had shared with me in what he probably thought was strict confidence.

Jonathan, I'm sorry! I'm doing this for your own good!

"Hmm, that is interesting. I gotta be honest though; I don't usually deal with issues like this as a nurse. It's more something a GP or even specialist would handle. Possibly an endocrinologist or urologist. Have you suggested he see someone like that?"

"Kind of. But you have to bear in mind here that he feels pretty sick about all this. You see, his mother has been filling his head with the notion that he should be ashamed whenever his body acts out like that."

"Oh, wow. What a sick bitch," she sounded supremely disgusted, "Some people... Boy, you gotta feel for the poor kid."

"I couldn't agree more, Jess; so, you can see why I really want to help him. At one point I'd pressed him on if he'd ever seen a specialist just to set his mind at ease, and he told me his mother said her insurance has a high deductible and that he shouldn't be wasting her time with 'normal teenager problems'."

"Sheesh! Parent of the year material right here, eh?"

"You're not kidding."

"Look, I'll tell you what," she offered, "I'll ask around some of the doctors if they've ever heard of anything like this. Discreetly. See if I can get you some answers."

"Thanks, Jess, you're the best."

"I know," she sing-songed. "Now, when do I get pics?"

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

"Alright everyone," I was interrupted by the buzzer indicating the period was over, "don't forget, that's chapters fourteen through sixteen for Thursday's quiz!" My voice raised above the din of students packing up books and scooting chairs to move on to their next class. "Mr. Haddock, can I see you for a few minutes, please? It's about your homework assignment."

I caught Jonathan's eye as the others filed out, but not before receiving a frustrated glare from a certain red-haired young woman. She looked from me to Jonathan, and back again disappointedly before weaving gracefully through the throng to exit the room.

I needed to watch myself around that one. She was a little

too

observant.

He came to the front of the class wearing a small smile, book bag held in its customary position in front of his crotch. For the thousandth time, I wanted to throw away the slow game of seduction and simply beg him to bend me over my desk and have his way with me.

"You asked to see me, Miss Belsor."

"Mia," I whispered automatically.

"But that was just the one-"

"Oh, shush," I silenced him with the flip of my hand, "We're friends. And 'Miss Belsor' makes me sound old."

"Well, not really, Miss Bels... I mean Mia. 'Miss' is usually used for an unmarried-"

Again I cut him off, "Peace, Jonathan, that's not why I asked for you."

"Then what did you need? Is this really about my homework?"

"No, I wanted to ask if you'd heard back from the college admissions board. You said you were expecting to get word on your early admissions application any day now, right?" I asked with nervous excitement.

"Oh. Yeah, I did! The letter came yesterday; next fall I'll be a freshman at Tech!"

I wanted so badly to feel happy for him, but I couldn't lie to myself; this was terrible news. The countdown had begun -- I had until next fall to build something between us, or I might well lose him forever.

"Jonathan. That's wonderful news!" I enthused, "I am SO proud of you. All of your hard work is paying off!" I reached out to give him a friendly squeeze on the arm.

"Thanks, Mia, but there's no way I could have done it without you." A caught a flash of red in my peripheral vision midway through his response. Turning, I found Isabel strolling through the classroom door, and nearly froze. How much of that had she heard?

Isabel's eye found my hand on Jonathan's arm like Neodymium on cast iron. Her eyes narrowed, taking in my expression, then Jonathan's.

Wait... We weren't doing anything wrong. Just a teacher congratulating her student for a bit of academic excellence, after all.

I picked up smoothly, "Isabel. Nice to see you again. Mr. Haddock here was just telling me that he's been accepted to Tech. Did you forget something?"

The reasonable explanation seemed to put her off-kilter for a moment. "Uh...yeah," she said, "my hair clip." She moved to her desk and looked around for it, finding it on the floor after a moment and holding it up. "Here it is."

She passed by the dark-haired boy on her way to the door, weaving through the rows of desks, "C'mon Jonathan, we're gonna be late for next period. Was that all you needed, Miss Belsor? I assume you already discussed the

homework assignment

?"

This girl...

"Yes. Go on, Mr. Haddock. Congratulations again."

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

"Come in, Jonathan, come in." I greeted him at our customary time that Thursday. He grinned, scuffing his shoes on the entry rug before entering my apartment. "How have you been?"

"Pretty good. Hey, I have something for you." His eyes twinkled with anticipation.

"For me?"

He pulled a gift-wrapped box out of his bag, sending my stomach shooting into my throat.

"A gift?" I continued, "What for?"

He looked up at me bashfully. "My mom suggested I get you something for helping me so much with my grades. She said I probably wouldn't have gotten into Tech if it weren't for your tutoring."

"What a thoughtful gesture." I made to unwrap it, but paused, "My, look at this meticulous wrapping. Do you do this?"

He regarded me guiltily, "Mom again."

I gave him an understanding smile, carefully opening the package. Within the white crepe paper inside was some kind of soft purple garment. Holding it up, I found it to be a large scarf that could double as a wrap.

"Jonathan, this is beautiful!" My chest glowed with pleasure at his choice, surprised and impressed at his thoughtfulness, as I legitimately loved the gift. "Did you pick this out?"

He nodded with pride.

"Well, I

love

it. How did you know purple was my favorite?"

"Uh, I didn't, really," he said, scratching the back of his head, "but I thought it would look good with your...uh, that is...your green eyes."

I held a hand to my breastbone, trying not to let my internal swoon show through.

He must have been nervous about why I hadn't said anything, and went on, "Yeah, I guess that sure did sound cheesy. I'm sorry Miss Belsor, I swear I'm not hitting on you. It's just that you always complain about being cold in class, and winter is almost here. I thought it might help keep you warm."

And it

did

make me warm. Very warm indeed.

"Jonathan, this is one of the sweetest things anyone... Thank you."

Rising on tip-toes, I gave him a light kiss on the cheek, letting my plush lips linger a moment despite knowing it went a hair too far, too swept up in the joy of the moment to care. His cheek warmed under my cool lips, and I retreated to a more customary distance.

We got started with the tutoring, but not twenty minutes had gone by before I was ready to call it quits. Intensely distracted by the fuzzy gift that now mantled my shoulders, I barely registered the words Jonathan recited from the text. Instead, I delighted in the plush softness of what I was convinced was a token of the boy's regard, lazily stroking it with the backs of my fingers while my mind floated through a vanilla sky of pleasant thoughts.

"Jonathan."

"Mm?" he grunted, face down and trying to read a passage I'd indicated.

"It occurs to me that this is something of a special occasion, what with your acceptance to the university and all. What would you say to taking the rest of the night off from our study routine?"

His eyebrows lowered in disappointment.

"No, no. I don't mean we should quit entirely. I just thought we could do something a little special. Not to sound melodramatic, but I very much enjoy the little talks we have during these sessions."

He looked up at me, finally meeting my eye.

There

he was.

"That's...thanks Mia, I like our talks too."

"Well, that does it then!" I closed the book, making a resounding '

thwap

'. "Let's go get comfy."

He mirrored my mischievous smile as I grabbed his hand and pulled him to the living room like a girl fifteen years my junior on stockinged feet.

I drew him to the couch, and he sat as he always did on the end, my hand still clutching his possessively.

"Oh my," I said, appraising it scrupulously under the light of the end table lamp, "Jonathan, I hope you don't mind me saying so, but you have very attractive hands."

"Uh, really?"

Holding his palm-down with my right, I ran the fingertips of my left lightly over his bulging veins, following them as they trailed their way up onto his forearms. Murmuring, I replied, "Really. They're very masculine."

"M-masculine?" he stammered.

Admiring them while Jonathan sat frozen, I affirmed, "Mhmm." My fingers traced his sinews and stout-looking knuckles before I flipped it to regard his beefy palm. I found myself getting turned on, imagining him thrusting them into me, ignoring my pleas for him to replace them with his cock.

"Mmm, look how much bigger they are than mine." I held up my hand, palm out, tilting his upward so they could meet palm-to-palm. His digits were much broader, and though blunted more than mine, still extended a good inch farther. My palm looked petite in juxtaposition.

"Did you know there's a silly old wive's tale that says a man's hands are proportional to the size of his...you know?" I chuckled.

Letting that sink in for a moment, I continued, stage whispering, "I say it's bunk though -- my ex had tiny hands, after all."

The look on his face -- that he so badly wanted to correct my assertion and set the record straight with himself as evidence -- was priceless.

Shaking myself out of my reverie, I released him, letting the flopping fish off the proverbial hook. "So, tell me how things are going with Isabel. The winter dance is coming up in a little over a month. Do you think you'll be asking her to join you?"

That jolted him from more pleasant thoughts, and he looked down, tugging at a stray thread from the seam of his jeans with a sharp jerk.

"I don't know, Mia, I just can't seem to make it happen. It's like, everything's perfect, and I do think she wants me to make a move, but every time I decide to do something about it, I end up second-guessing myself. I know that's lame, and that I just need to grow a pair and get it done, but...arghh, I don't know what's wrong with me." He shook his head ruefully.

Oh, my boy, I think you already

have

a pair. You just need someone to show you how to use them.

I shook my head in sympathy, knowing also that some girls -- especially ones that lacked self-confidence like a certain redhead -- would sooner stay eternally trapped in the friend zone than to make the first move. Problem was, Jonathan was right there with her.

What this boy needed was a woman who could take charge. One who didn't mind being forward. Someone to take him by the hand and tell him what to do; someone with experience.

"Jonathan, while we chat, would you mind doing me a little favor?"

"Sure. What can I help with?" the blue-eyed boy enthused.

"Well, you see, I'm on my feet all day, and they get

soo

sore, especially on days like today when I wear heels. I was hoping -- if it's not too much to ask, that is -- you might be willing to...give me a little foot rub? Only if you're comfortable with it. I'd

really

appreciate it." I drew out the words suggestively.