The Residency Issue Ch 04

Any resemblance to existing institutions, or persons living or dead, is coincidental and unintended. This is a work of fiction.

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Alec and I lay in the dim, intimate calm of his room, very ready for sleep. He had just broken the mood with a statement about Paul needing a "guardian angel."

After he said it, I raised up on an elbow and said, "Why? What do you mean?"

"Ah..." Alec hesitated. "Let's just see how he is in the morning...I may be worried for nothing."

"But if you were worried with good reason," I said, "what would that reason be?" I felt some responsibility--and a lot of fondness--for my young, beautiful man.

He kept silent for a moment. "Aunt Nora has friends...a regular group she sees all the time. I tease her sometimes; I tell her if they were younger, they'd probably call themselves a squad."

He took a deep breath as I waited. "Anyway, they sometimes have parties and some of the students get invited. Almost everybody they invite are boys...men."

"Parties?" I said.

"Yeah..." Alec drew out the word. "I'm kind of worried about him, like how would he be with Aunt Nora's crowd. They can be demanding, kind of entitled."

"Alec," I said, "you're maybe not asking the right person here. He and I became...quite close, in a short period of time. As far as that goes, we have talked about it a few times, and he seems clear-eyed and mature enough." I was perturbed--I didn't want to have to defend myself, even from so circuitous an assault.

"I know, I know," Alec seemed to want to dismiss it. "Maybe he's not quite so naive as he first struck me." Alec then added, speaking as though to himself, "He's such a sweet, kid, so trusting...almost tender."

Alec drifted off...I amused myself thinking, 'Good work, honey, this is the second stud you've run into the ground in the last couple of days.' But Alec's apparent concern for Paul kept me awake a while longer. I wrestled with the issues he seemed to bring up, but soon enough, my fatigue took over.

Our morning together didn't include a repeat of last night's acrobatics; we both seemed okay about it, even cheery. I wanted to get a sense of how Paul was doing after his night with Nora, and somehow I imagined Alec wanted to do the same.

The ride back to my cabin in the Smokies was a subdued affair. Except for Nora. She made no bones about how refreshed and invigorated she felt after sharing her night with Paul. For his part, Paul seemed a little embarrassed to be around me, and that made me melt all over again. I guess I felt I'd been unfaithful to Paul, as insane as that is on the face of it.

I watched with particular interest Alec's behavior around Paul. He struggled with how to behave; he barely spoke to Nora, and gave Paul a quick awkward hug--Paul never raised his arms or acknowledged it in any way. After holding Paul at arm's length and looking deep into his eyes for a second, he got in his car and sped away.

Nora did all the talking on the way back, probably because she had no embarrassment about how everything was going. She positively shone, in a satiated way, sighing and looking oh so surfeited. Her glow included a sense of entitlement, or maybe I was imagining it. After all, Paul was going to be on campus, potentially for the next few years.

I wanted to lean forward between the seats and punch her hard right in the throat. And yes, I realized the hypocrisy in the urge, but couldn't help it.

As we pulled up at last in front of my home in the woods, Nora got out and kissed Paul on the cheek, hugged him tightly, and after a few murmured words, drove away.

I said nothing for the few minutes it took us to settle back in. I got busy preparing sandwiches with some London broil I had left over; Paul silently got napkins out and poured the iced tea, waiting for me to start the conversation. I had to set aside my jealousy--it was just too hypocritical of me. I decided no matter how clouded my mood, I had to draw Paul out with no judgment or recrimination at all.

"So," I said, taking a deep breath as I worked with the lunch fixings, "did you and Nora...do okay?"

Paul breathed out, maybe partly from amusement. "I guess..." he said, and suddenly he had his arms around me from behind and nuzzled my neck. I gasped and put down the knife. I laid my head back against him.

"Oh, Paul!" I turned around and held him tight to me. I was close to tears, tears of worry, jealousy, and maybe tears of love. "Did we--did I totally fuck up getting you into this?" I was so relieved he was holding me, like he wanted to put my world back together. Emotions are so irrational! I'd known him all of a few days.

He held me close, running a comforting hand up and down my back. He gave me a long, tender kiss, and Oh my god, talk about suddenly wet and horny!

"Say something, Paul, please," I said into his chest.

He straightened up and held my eyes in his. "I'm sorry. I didn't think how this might upset you," he said.

I was jealous, but it frustrated me--I knew I shouldn't be. I looked at him and heaved a big sigh. "It's not that, it's--" I started, but he put a finger gently on my lips.

"We talked about this, right?" he said quietly. "Please don't be hard on yourself." That little gesture with his finger made me wonder where do young men like this come by their worldly ways? I felt so in love at that moment--poor, fragile, delusional me.

"If you finish those sandwiches," he said, "I'll tell you about it."

I spun around and got busy, happy with something to do. I couldn't enjoy it, though. I was too tense.

We sat facing each other at the table, and he started.

"Nora...Nora wanted what she wanted," Paul said. "I did my best to give it to her, and I think I did okay." He looked at me, a little sheepish. "She's sure a bony thing, you know? But pretty strong and demanding."

"As opposed to someone sitting at this table," I added. "Except for the 'demanding' part." He let it go, classy as ever.

"We spent a lot of the night," he said, "...busy, I guess you'd say. Sometimes I felt like I was auditioning, you know? But really, the one thing I didn't care for--other than the fact it wasn't you--"

"Oh, you doll!" I interjected, reaching for his hand across the table.

"She had this attitude," he said, "like she was kind of all business--I don't know, like what she was getting was just her due, or something. Like the whole night was expected and normal, routine, you know?...I hadn't expected that approach beforehand, or maybe I thought she'd appreciate some attention, but..."

"Sounds like she was just ho hum about it." I said.

"Not ho hum

exactly

, it was more like she hadn't expected to have to give me any directions," he said. He reflected a moment. "She might have been a little uncomfortable when we first got to her house."

"But she got over that, I take it," I said. "It's not every night she gets such a handsome young stud in her bed."

"Well..." he said, "Like I said, we were...occupied...a good part of the night."

"Are you going to be okay doing repeat performances?" I asked.

"I...think I'd be okay." He sighed. "She did some things...that you and I never got into."

"Oh? Like what?"

"Well," Paul said, deciding to tell me the whole story, "a couple of times she ran her finger over my butt hole."

This hadn't occurred to me, although I guess it should have. I said, "That was a surprise, I bet."

"Yeah..." He looked thoughtful. "I wanted to be there for her, like, not be disappointing, you know? So I kind of shifted my mind into a place where I would just give in--"

"Submit," I interjected.

"Submit," Paul said, "more than I had up to that point."

I was so mixed up at this point: proud, possessive, cranky, and curious, by turns. I felt I was witnessing Paul's growth before my eyes. An unusual area, maybe, but growth nonetheless.

He went on. "So I made myself relax--she'd backed off and seemed like she was hesitating, and like I said, I didn't want to be disappointing. So I moved my...butt, closer to where I knew her hand was, and kind of offered it to her. I guess I was acting kind of slutty."

"Oh, I bet she liked that," I said.

"Yep," he said, "she was kind of charged up after that. I'm pretty sure she had a couple of fingers inside me, and...she moved them around, in and out. She took me in her mouth and moved her fingers--that was intense. Then all of a sudden she was back underneath me, and quick slid me back inside of her. She climaxed quite a few times then."

"So..." I said, "your first 'audition' --did it feel too much like selling out?"

"Umm..." he said, "right now, I don't feel like I minded it that much." He shrugged.

"Ah!" I said, "young men and their endless supply of hormones!" (I suppose I should talk!) "I guess at this point," I added, "it's impossible to tell how things will shape up going forward."

"There's a little more to tell you," Paul said.

"There's more?"

"Yeah," Paul said, "this morning after breakfast, a lady came to Nora's house for a visit. After she introduced me--the woman's name was Erma...Erma Dunleavy--she was about as--she was Nora's age, thereabouts, but...heavy. We all sat down in the family room, and she...she looked me up and down, the whole time. She smiled a lot. They each had a couple of glasses of wine--I stuck with the iced tea, it was still morning, obviously--after a while, about the only thing Mrs. Dunleavy did was look at me and smile. She asked me a few questions, about school, my Dad, but I don't think she paid any attention to my answers. Any time Nora would say anything, Mrs. Dunleavy got kind of annoyed, but she always answered her, all polite and everything...Man, she got so she was drilling holes in me, with those eyes."

I took a breath, trying to push the image aside. "What color were they?" I asked him, not sure where the question came from. He just stared at me. I smiled and said, "Darling, if you're going to be squiring women around town, and it seems like you probably will be, you'd be well advised to notice some of the little things. Although eye color isn't necessarily a little thing." He still stared at me.

"Paul," I said, standing up and starting to clear the table, "I'm trying to set aside my feelings and look out for you. It's apparent to me that there are going to be at least a few wealthy and influential women in your life, and damn soon, at that." After setting things to soak, I retrieved two wine glasses and the dry Riesling.

"Now, what I'd like to avoid," I said, as we sat on the couch, "is you taking too cynical a view of this whole prospect." He accepted the wine I poured for him. "It will just affect your emotions too much, and not in a good way." I wanted to go slow; I wanted to help Paul--not let this opportunity go wrong, or go sideways before even getting started.

I said, "I know it's got its...debauched aspect, but really, when you think about it, that's a judgment from snooty, holier-than-thou types who don't deserve the time of day." His eyes got a little wider. "I'm serious, my love." Oh, I couldn't stand it any more. I slid over and kissed him where he sat. He was as accepting as always.

"Let's go the the bedroom," I said. "Bring your wine."

"Now," I said, standing by my bed, "if you follow a woman's cues, and maybe throw in a little surprise here and there, she will think she's died and gone to heaven, which, as her squire, is what you're trying for. Undress me, would you, sweetheart?" Paul, ever ready, starting unbuttoning my blouse, and oh god, I started to get so wet, just from his hands on my clothes.

"Now normally," I said, "your cue won't be as clear-cut at that. Ever." Paul kissed me on the collarbone, and a few more times across my upper chest. I caught my breath.

"Now see?" I was already getting short of breath. "This is an excellent surprise." I breathed deeply. "I'm already...losing the ability to speak." I held the back of his head until he lowered my blouse down my arms and onto a chair behind me. He held my gaze as he reached around behind me for my bra clasp. As he involved his hands around my back, he came in sensually for a kiss, his tongue deep and ravenous. I felt like I would swoon.

He brought my bra forward off of me, and lightly held my breasts and moved his thumbs across my nipples. I've always been thankful my boobs are relatively small, given how much weight I carry.

Keeping his eyes on mine, he knelt and undid the button and zipper of my jeans, and slid them down to my knees. Immediately he put his mouth on my mons, his warm breath exciting and pleasurable. He held my eyes in his, except for when he breathed in my scent. God, that was hot, too.

Panties, sandals, jeans--all were gone, and he laid me back on my bed, held me under my legs and began kissing up the insides of my thighs. I lay back and sighed.

Paul's lips and tongue brought me back to myself; a little while ago my mood was quite dark, and I was still feeling unsettled. They reminded me of my love for him--which I was now freely admitting, apparently. I didn't know what would happen to him, or me, or how much we'd see of each other. Uncertainty can feel like it's all downside, but I reminded myself that I wanted what was best for Paul, within his limits. And his limits seemed quite broad in that moment.

Paul's mouth on me certainly felt like love, and I gave myself over to it.

"Bring me off, sweet baby," I whispered to myself. "Bring me off." Paul apparently still felt the urge to be a caregiver, making sure I was happy and secure. And why would I tell him to stop? His lips and tongue felt divine as always, and he moved and roamed over me with an assurance that meant he'd probably had to perform for Nora the night before. He worked his lips and tongue on me, and I reveled in it. I was conscious of not wanting to take anything Paul (or Alec) did for granted.

Paul worked his lips and tongue on me, over my wet folds, teasing my clit to engorge and clear its little hood. His mouth on me brought all the sensations back, lovely and other-worldly. Quickly he traveled the gamut, raising the sensual stakes, from first kisses on my ready vulva, the moisture spreading, to intensified pleasure along my inner lips, on up to my center of pleasure--and from there--he brought me right to the desperate edge--with my sharp gasps and sounds I didn't care to control. And--OH! Over I went!--crashing, ecstatic, convulsing quakes, through me and through me they rushed, pushing me beyond the here and now, sparkles dancing in my vision. Again I gushed fluids on Paul's beautiful face and throat. My body always takes over--oh, I lose control and so willingly do I abandon it! And I floated, replete, I relaxed my back; through my wheezing and gasping, I waited for my breathing to slow. Only then did I release Paul's face from against my sex.

This felt so rewarding, like returning from a difficult journey, led by Paul, my kind and captivating guide. He moved up onto the bed and lay on his side next to me.

When my breath allowed, I said, "I envy the women who will be in your care, dear thing."

"So, Paul," I said, as we lay quiet, "I think you've got a pretty terrific opportunity here, honestly." I turned and caressed his abdomen. "As I started to say before we got so--deliciously!--sidetracked, there are some women who are salivating over you, you little stinker." Here I pinched his gut a little; he grunted and placed a hand on mine. "You can either get off on the right foot with it and enjoy it, and maybe accelerate your education into the bargain, or you can make yourself and everyone around you miserable."

I let that sink in for a moment.

"It gets to your pride, Paul," I said. "It depends on how you feel about taking the opportunity to use your body to...make an impression, to get people to take an interest in you, to be on your side...I wanted to say it again, just to get you--and me--used to the idea."

The land line rang and I jumped. "Now who in the world...Hello?"

"Vera? Hello, it's Alma."

"Well, hello, Alma. How are you?" I said.

"I'm doing pretty well, thanks," she said. "I've just said goodbye to the last of the committee members. Lord, some of them just didn't want to leave, it seemed like."

"So you're on your own, then?"

"Yes," she said, "and I was wondering if you and Paul would like some supper."

"Um, supper?"

"Well," she said, "our farewell luncheon, as we call it, was catered, and there's just so much here. I--I was stumped for a minute about what to do with it all, and then I thought of you and Paul."

"Well," I said, "isn't that just the most thoughtful thing!" I covered the receiver with my palm, and said to Paul, "Alma's inviting us to dinner. This evening." He shrugged--Why not?

I said to Alma, "That sounds wonderful, Alma, and very kind of you. Would you like us at 4:00?"

"That sounds fine," Alma said. "See you then."

I chilled another Riesling, and set out a merlot so I wouldn't forget it. Can't go empty-handed now, can we? Of course it occurred to me right away that she really wanted to see Paul. Well, duh!

We rested for a time--I think we each needed it. We were freshened up and about ready to go, when I said, "It seems clear that Alma has a pretty hard crush on you, dear boy."

"Hm," was all he'd say.

"I'm saying that she's an opportunity for you to act the attentive gentleman," I said, "and show some interest she might find thrilling. I know she would."

We were locking up and walking to the car when I went on. "She's definitely not typical of the type of women you'll see in Knoxville. Anything she gets from you will feel like a bonus. She's probably got butterflies thinking about seeing you again. So: tread lightly. Follow her cues, okay? Don't get pushy." Then I added, "Except for gentle, subtle pushes, which I think she'll find thrilling, you know what I mean?"

"I think I do," Paul said. "Pay attention to her, go slow, see how she reacts."

"Perfect!" I said. "That's good advice when in the company of any woman."

Alma came out onto her little porch and watched as Paul and I approached from the car. As soon as she caught Paul's eye, she waved, the fat of her upper arm swaying. Carrying both bottles of wine, he raised one arm high in greeting, and quickened his pace toward the house. He was a little ahead of me when he arrived on the porch; he wrapped Alma up in a tight hug, and I think whispered something in her ear. They broke their clinch and, looking into his eyes, she smiled broadly, then demurely looked down.

"Well," she said, "come on in, then." Some of the side dishes--rolls, the salad waiting to be tossed, and condiments were already out on the table, covered in cloth or plastic wrap. Alma put the wine out on the table, and said, "I have some sweet tea for you all...I thought we could sit out on the covered porch and enjoy the evening before sitting to supper."

"Well, Alma," I said, "I chilled the Riesling special, and would be glad to open it so we could have a companionable sip--if it's all right with you."

"Well, I don't usually--" she said. "Well, all right, since I'm not driving anywhere."

I poured for Alma and she carried her glass out onto the screened-in porch; Paul had already gone out. I followed a step or two behind her. She stood in front of the couch looking at Paul who'd already seated himself. He had his arm resting across the back of the couch and was giving Alma an innocent look that managed to be over-the-top inviting. At least I thought so.

The old girl (who'm I calling old?!) parked her very large bottom hear Paul's space on the couch. Not touching, not yet, but I was proud of her. Pretty good step for someone who had an obvious case of nerves. In that moment, I felt for her. She wanted so much to be near Paul, but didn't know much of anything beyond that. That's why I gave her the wine. I wanted the combination of the Riesling and Paul's interest to work some magic on her. I can't explain my desire for it; I was thinking of Paul, coaching him into an attentive lover. It's weird, I know, but I felt I'd discovered a wonderful vessel for women's love, and lust, particularly older women's, and wanted to get it (him) started down a road to joy and not pain and stress and resentment. I thought it possible, even likely for Paul. Somewhere in that thought process, I felt I was doing something for older women everywhere. I sorely wanted to help Paul enjoy it.