Seventh Sister

Caley teasingly rubbed my balding head as she pressed the firm nipples of her young breasts against me. Despite the four decades of life experiences that separated us, I felt the familiar surge that she was after power through me as I held her close. It was to be our last night and morning, and, well, lunchtime together. It still seemed strange as I thought about it afterward while writing to my dear and wise friend at her new job in Marin County.

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Dear Sophia,

As you requested, I'm writing to endorse the admission of Caley _______ to the School for Social Expression. [As readers of my earlier stories know, and as skilled seducers and seductresses around the globe know, that's the cover name for the School for Sexual Expression.] I think that you and the admissions committee have made a wise choice, but I understand why you want information from me as to how this brilliant young scientist also will benefit from your program. At the risk of sounding trite, I think that you will see that the world will benefit from her participation. Let me explain.

My introduction to Caley came about through a program run by your alumna Val __________ ........

============

I leaned back in my chair and remembered that evening. Val had survived so much, not just run of the mill racial prejudice, but she had risked her life in helping our mutual friend Dean's undercover efforts against a plot that imperiled an important part of the G-7 conference in Denver [Read AT THE SUMMIT in this site.]. Her mastery of Sexual Expression had shone brightly as she hypnotized the rogue cop who had been sent to disrupt Val and Val's friends' efforts. We still grinned when we sat around the parlor of the old Bed & Breakfast in North Denver and heard again how the sight of her bared breasts had stopped the cop in his tracks and drawn his eyes to the gently swaying necklace with the endlessly entwining and very hypnotic logo of the School for Sexual Expression. We still hope someday that the security classification that keeps her from telling about her earlier adventures alongside Dean will be lifted. There were delicious rumors in the intelligence community that her seductive trick with her breasts had saved countless lives before I knew her, including perhaps her own.

In fact, it was in her parlor that I learned about Val's most recent project. She was in a positive mood as she told me about it.

"You're not the only one around here now who's called 'Professor'" she bragged.

"Well, people still call me that, but since I left the University of ___________ I haven't taught a class. I guess the research that I do qualifies, but I haven't been around students much at all since then." There were some reasons for staying away from students, most notably the efforts by my former department head to organize charges of sexual harassment after he caught me eagerly fucking Cindy in my office -- the cheerleader who he had the hots for. That Cindy had come so willingly, again and again to me, and that she gained nothing but pleasure from doing it had not been relevant to him.

Val nodded, knowing the story about my arranged departure from the midwestern university. I still thought about going back to teaching, but was not sure what the department head might have told colleagues. Yes, perhaps I should have shown more fight, but I was also enjoying the freedom to carry on my research with the foundation grant that Sophia had set up. After all, not many professors lived in Denver's elegant Oxford Hotel!

"So how have you gained the title?" I queried. I smiled, because I knew that Val always had interesting stories to tell, and she liked to start with a tease.

"I'm giving sex ed classes at sororities in the universities around here." I looked at Val with some puzzlement, which made her laugh. Her straightforward answer was not what I was expecting.

"Don't they pretty well know everything by then, or at least think so?" I asked. "I haven't just read the statistics, I've had them in my office!" I started to tell her about the recent media discussions about the rise in women's enjoyment of pornography. Val laughed again.

"Looking at porn or getting a sex ed class in school still doesn't mean that they can enjoy sex. That's what my class is covering... and it's co-ed." I raised an eyebrow.

"You guys," she continued, "think that you already know everything. So a woman selects a man to mate with, as we've been doing for thousands of years, and she gets a guy who acts like a caveman. Or, she's up on all the technical stuff, and doesn't know how to really pleasure him -- and keep him up as much as she wants. That's what I'm working on."

"Oh." I had to think about that.

"It's really worthwhile to see the results," she added. She turned to an old-fashioned rolltop desk in the Victorian parlor and rummaged through some papers.

"Here's a letter from one of the sorority sisters," she said as she thrust it at me. It basically reminded Val of the frustration that had resulted in them calling on her. Apparently her marketing for this class was oral. And from the letter, oral was what this particular young woman wanted. She described with glee how her boyfriend came down on her with enthusiasm after their sessions with Val. My eyes grew bigger as I realized that she was also thrilled at her friends' excitement for her... as they watched.

"It sounds as though you're running an orgy of some kind."

"Not at all, it's very structured," she insisted. "There are goals, objectives, the whole bit."

"I've been to orgies that had goals and objectives. In fact, I recall that you were at one of them." I was sounding a bit peevish, I realized.

"True, but I think that if you let yourself be a bit more open-minded, you'd understand what I'm doing." She paused, and I couldn't think of anything else to say at the moment, so there was silence for a while. I listened to the old grandfather clock ticking in the hallway. The one that at midnight showed old grandfather chasing a village maiden.

Suddenly Val's old smile was back.

"Why don't you come to the next session with me?" she asked.

I started to excuse myself, but then realized how silly I was being.

"When is it?" She wrote out the information for me. We'd be meeting the students off-campus, of course, and not in the sorority house. If anything became public, they could deny it. The address was a big condo near the new light rail station out in the Southeast suburbs.

"Most of these young people," Val explained, "come from affluent suburbs, and there's always a senior whose daddy is buying a condo for her." The seniors who shared the place would be off for the weekend skiiing. Val's class would be freshmen and sophomores new to the sorority, and their dates. There was something else.

"Uhh, I need to tell you that the guys don't know that it's educational. You can talk with them to learn more about it, but don't tip them off to anything. They just think it's a party where they might get lucky."

"Will they?"

"Luckier than they think." Val's big smile was back, as she patted her generous breasts where the chains that I saw led to her School for Sexual Expressions necklace. As always, thoughts of rich and delicious chocolate milkshakes topped with red cherries flashed through my mind.

============

I went back to my keyboard and continued my official letter to Sophia. She would want to hear all these details, but the letter had to be dry and academic.

"I first met Caley at a sorority event..." I typed.

============

Val and I caught the train out to the Southeast condo. She explained that for reasons of discretion she didn't use her car, and besides, the condo had a parking problem. It was a Friday evening, and when we stopped at the University Station we could see eager student bodies assembling for the train in the other direction, to LoDo, where I lived. The young women were dressed in the most expensive sex-attractant outfits their parents' money could buy. The young men were mostly dressed in jeans and t-shirts. They hung in gender-segregated groups for the most part.

"There it is," Val said, waving her hand in a general way toward the crowd outside the train window. "And, here is our hope for the future."

I had not noticed the group that had coalesced on the train. They sat in gender-specific groups, too, but they did seem to acknowledge the opposite group's existence. They sat across the aisle from each other and talked across the aisle. A couple of them at any given time punched keys on cellphones. A security guard ambled through, and one of the young guys took his feet off the facing seat. The young women - from a variety of ethnic groups - giggled about some shared secret. They did not pay any attention to us. Then I noticed a seventh female, a serious looking sorority sister, Caley. Her bright eyes betrayed a deep interior that she was trying to cover with an air of indifference.

The seats were in fours, and she sat alone. Everyone else seemed to be paired up with a buddy. It's not as if she was left out-- there were two girls sitting across the aisle from her on the opposite seat, so that they faced her. But they talked to each other, only occasionally acknowledging her. They were not hostile to her, just not interested in including her in their conversation. I nudged Val and quietly asked her about the silent woman.

"Sometimes they get someone who's really strong academically into their sorority to help them with their grades," she murmured. I looked her over, my experienced eyes easily penetrating the party outfit that did not quite look like her choice of attire. The chatter in the train should have covered Val's and my voices, but after a bit, I noticed her looking at us with curiousity. Had she heard? Did it matter to her? The train flew through a big junction in the middle of the freeway interchange and settled down in the center of the Interstate. I looked out at the golf course and other green spaces, so different from my big city district, and let my mind drift toward what was ahead.

"How do things usually go?" I queried. "Are there problems?"

"Just about every time, something goes wrong, but I usually come up with a solution." I believed Val, as I knew how resourceful she could be.

The train, which had been racing cars on the highway, suddenly braked and we were up and off before I could really think about it. The university students tumbled out noisily from the next door, while Val and I looked around at the suburban setting. A footbridge led across a wetland -- or maybe it should have been called a swamp -- and there was a congregation of condos at the other end of the bridge. Some of the students knew where to head, they had partied here before, so we followed them.

I am old enough to remember shag carpeting and orange refrigerators the first time around, so it was amusing to me to see that the place was decorated in a 1970's retro look. There was even Indian music playing in the background, despite there being no other sign of that nation's culture, unless I included the computer help desk number posted by the home's computer. Unlike the 1970's, I didn't see any sign of drugs. There were beverages of various sorts, but no keg. Allison's boyfriend acting as bartender poured cautiously. If I had not known Val, I would have thought that this would be a fairly dull party. I noticed that some of the students looked disappointed when they saw the modest liquor offerings.

Nevertheless, some of the guys tried to start on Liquid Courage. I overheard one of them telling his buddies that with enough of the hard stuff, he could ask women for their phone numbers and then not feel bad when he was rejected. I heard no indication that he had ever tried asking them when he was sober.

Just when everyone was beginning to form into conversation cliques, I realized that Caley was being left out. Or, perhaps, she was not very interested in the conversation. Any conversations that include the names Lindsey Lohan or Paris Hilton might not grab the interest of a certain serious kind of student. I walked over to her and introduced myself, then asked about her studies.

Caley was a Chem major and already had her sights set on grad school. She was interested in research into biochemistry, and she mentioned the name of some compound that rang a bell in the back of my head. I had to confess that I didn't know much about that field, but that I liked the way her eyes started to sparkle as she got to talking about it. I was starting to find her more interesting than I had expected. At the same time, I began to realize that she was puzzling over my name, as if she knew it from somewhere. Having a common name means that happens fairly often, so at the time I didn't ask her about her reading habits on the Internet.

We were interrupted -- everyone was interrupted -- by our hostess asking for everybody's attention for a few minutes. This took some effort on Allison's part -- our hostess -- because everyone was so deep into their conversational circles that they did not want to notice her.

"Guys, we've got some business to take care first," she asserted towards a circle of men who first ignored her, then offered groans or sighs. "Then there'll be more to drink (cheers followed) -- if you want it." That was an interesting turn of phrase, I thought. My friend seemed to read my mind, and leaned forward to whisper to me that Allison was at Val's last year session. She had a general idea of what might happen.

"First of all," and then she looked at a list, "where's Ted? Ted was supposed to be here tonight, right?" This explained why they were one male short. Someone was a no-show. "This isn't going to work right."

"We going to do party games?" one of the six men snorted in disgust, imitating some stereotypical street thug from a music video. Allison ignored him and went over to consult for a moment with Val. Then she bounced back with a smile. "We'll ask the Professor to stand in for Ted. Maybe Ted will get here late." There was some nervous laughter and half-hearted agreement. I looked quizically at Val, who grinned a reassuring sort of grin. Or maybe it was something else.

"Well, we'll start with a kind of game. Which one of you gentlemen is the youngest?" There was some quibbling, and then the males pushed Brad, a freshman, forward. He was followed by derisive comments about whether he needed to shave every day. He blushed and looked uncomfortable.

"You get to choose first."

"Choose what?" he murmured defensively.

"The woman who you're going to have tonight."

There was instantly an uproar that must have been audible on the passing trains. Allison stood there smiling. Val looked calm and in control.

"That isn't how things work," the words came spilling out. The young students looked around at each other, as if to see what the official group reaction would be. But they were too stunned to move.

"That's how things are going to work tonight. Didn't you come here tonight hoping to get laid?"

The confused young men nodded "yes" and said "no, not really.... well, maybe." He looked as though he might run out of the room. The young women chortled. Then I noticed Val holding his hand in a peculiar way-- a handshake induction. His head drooped and his eyes closed. Val spoke to him quietly, reassuringly. And then he brightened up and rejoined our conscious world.

"Now that I've reassured Brad, let me explain how this program works," Val said to the group. Each of the men will choose a woman for this evening, in order of your age. The Professor will have to go last." And, so, sort of like choosing a baseball team, each of the young men chose a woman. There was lots of noise and discussion and questions were asked. (Apparently, the sorority sisters knew this much about the evening's program. They did not seem as surprised as the men.) You can imagine how that worked out eventually. The freshman overcame his shock and chose Andrea, whose breasts defied the ability of her decorative, lightweight bra to hold them. On the other end of the list, Caley was left unselected.

I had thought that this approach might have angered her or depressed her, but instead, there was a smile on her face.

"Isn't this just like something in one of your stories, Professor?" Caley asked. "I was hoping that we'd end up together. Ted's kind of a nothing, so we won't miss him."

"You recognized my name from the Internet?"

"Not exactly, Allison did." I looked over at our hostess, but she was trying to answer questions from several directions. The place was in an uproar. I could barely hear Caley, but realized that she was trying to explain to me how Allison had taken her under her wing. Quite likely, even if Allison did not feel a genuine liking for Caley, the older student had the perspective to realize that their sorority needed her gifts.

"Allison helped me choose this outfit," Caley confided to me.

Allison was trying to get the group quieted down again.

"We're going to let Val explain more about our topic for this evening. Let's just be patient and hear what she has to say." Now there was more murmuring -- horny murmuring -- from the group. But Val ignored it and began speaking... speaking patiently... slowly... hypnotically. Allison drifted quietly off to another room.

Val's very presence in front of them caused them to gradually quiet down, but then the Liquid Courage guy belched a junior high sort of belch - the attention-demanding kind. There was some laughing, and then he blurted out something like "come on, get it over with." Val turned to face him. There was a buzz of curiousity in the room. Someone mentioned his name, Matt, in an undertone.

As she unbuttoned a couple of buttons on her blouse, the buzz increased. I caught a wink from Val, just before she pulled the hypnotic necklace from her bosom. Mr. Liquid Courage could not help but let his eyes be drawn to the flowery edge of her low-cut bra, and he almost was able to say something else before he eased into a deep trance.

"You are among friends here... it is a very relaxing setting Matt..." she intoned. "But it is warm here, too." Those were true statements. "When you awaken it will still be warm... when it is so warm you think about taking off your clothing. You are among friends here... they will approve." His friends stood silently now, watching curiously.

Matt was easily coaxed into making himself more comfortable, peeling off clothing at Val's direction. Soon Val had him so happy about it that he whistled a goofy tune as he stood in his underpants. One of the girls -- Ashley -- began to snicker. Val turned toward her and flashed her necklace in Ashley's direction, and the snickering subsided. A few whispered words from Val and the snickering turned to an apologetic whimper. Matt had chosen her and now she had been unappreciative of the compliment.

"Kneel and apologize to Matt!" Val commanded. Ashley looked askance for a moment and then did as she was told. Matt's underpants stretched taut in front of her.

Val turned toward the remaining group as the two remained frozen in front of us.

"Matt and Ashley are going to offer our first training lesson -- how to improve oral sex." There was a wave of heated discussion. It seems that everyone knew that sex would be one of the likely outcomes of this evening, but I think that the women thought that some sort of studs that they didn't know would be their parteners. And the men originally thought that a bunch of party sluts from the community, whatever that meant, were going to be theirs for the evening. Instead, this seemed to involve them intimately with people who they KNEW.

"You seem to be uneasy about this, perhaps you should try to relax." Val addressed the room.

She was warning us.