The Misogynist Ch 02

Cheryl was really excited! Her whole life was changing. A few weeks ago she'd been Miss Nobody, a lonely woman, almost thirty and on her way to spinster town. Now she had a boyfriend, or at least she fantasized he was her boyfriend. He was tall, good looking, and was looked up to by other men. His name was Turner. He was smart, witty, and he was interested in her. They were going out on their second double date. Today it was going to be a picnic. Imagine! A picnic!

Turner picked her up a little after 9:00. He'd managed to borrow a client's cabin cruiser. It was a nice one, a forty-footer. He planned on taking Cheryl, Martin, and his date, Sarah out for a little fishing, some swimming, a shoreline picnic, and if they weren't too tired a little dancing at one of the nicer night clubs by the dock. It not only could be fun, but it would certainly put him one step closer to winning the bet.

He knocked on her apartment door. It opened. "Here." Handing her a small bud vase with a single rose. "I saw this on the way over, and thought you might like it."

Turner was holding a small white vase out to her. In it was a beautiful little yellow rose. Cheryl was delighted! "A rose! A yellow rose! How thoughtful." She didn't know what else to do so she leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "This is so sweet. What should I do? Can I take it with me and show it to Martin and Sarah?"

"No. I think you should leave it here. Put it in your kitchen or something."

Cheryl was so pleased. "Oh this is so nice." She kissed his cheek again. "Wait here." She reconsidered. "No. Come in while I put it in the kitchen."

He sauntered into her small living room and stood beside a grandfather clock, her one nice antique, while she attended to the rose. He glanced around her apartment. It was small, but, considering her circumstances, nicely decorated. It had the typical apartment carpeting, but hers looked very well maintained. It had that just shampooed look. He bet she'd shampooed it herself, a natural domestic. The living room had a sofa and love seat separated by a small end table with a very expensive looking lamp. There was a heavy looking coffee table, and what passed for an entertainment center. He saw she had one of the older type tube televisions, a DVD/VCR player, but apparently no cable or satellite hook-up. He made a mental record of all the things she didn't have. Every little gift was something that would bring him closer to his goal.

She came into the living room. "I hope I look all right. Sarah and I went shopping yesterday, and we picked out outfits that are supposed to make us look like sisters."

Turner looked her over. He doubted if she and Sarah would ever pass for sisters. Sarah was small and sexy, and Cheryl was not exactly fat, but a little too buxom to be pretty. However, he had to admit she looked good. Comparing this woman to the one he'd taken out a week earlier, this was a big improvement. "Turn around. Let me get a good look."

She self-consciously spun around.

"Hold the hem of your skirt up a little and spin around again."

She did as he told her.

Her legs were heavy, but the way the skirt flared out made them look positively attractive. She was heavy, but her waist was small, and her breasts, though larger than he liked, looked good in the blouse. He smiled. "You look terrific Cheryl." He knew he needed to pour out more compliments, but he wasn't sure if she'd buy too much. He gave it a try. "That outfit is very becoming. I like the pretty white blouse. It goes well with the mini-skirt and that snappy little vest." In fact as he talked and perused more fully he realized she looked even prettier than he originally thought. The make up, the mini, the blouse, the nylons, the black shoes, and the hair, it was all so different. "I like your hair. Have you put highlights in it?"

"Yes. Sarah said we should curl our hair and add some blond. Do you like it?" She brushed her hair back with her right hand as she asked.

Turner reached out his left hand and touched the right side of her head and then her face. He let his fingers slide around the back of her ear and down around her neck. "I like the look. I like it a lot." He was surprised he hadn't paid closer attention to her complexion. "You have pretty skin. I can tell it's not the make up either. You have a soft, velvety, complexion."

Cheryl blushed.

He chuckled. "Now it's even prettier."

She was leaning back against her front door. He was looking her over so closely. She was afraid she was going to start to perspire.

Turner leaned further forward and kissed her on the lips. Keeping his face fairly close. "I like the way you look. You're pretty Cheryl."

She felt goose bumps when he touched her neck, and the kiss felt wonderful. It scared her. She felt silly, giddy. She almost giggled, but held them in. She backed around her front door toward the hallway. "I think we better go."

He smiled. "Houston. I think we have a problem."

Cheryl looked up. Scared a little. She knew what the phrase meant, but didn't understand what he meant. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing serious. I just want to recheck your kissing skills."

"My what?"

He didn't give her a chance to think. He put a finger on her lips. "Close your eyes and pucker up." Just as he figured, kissing for her was something she did when she was ten years old. Real kissing was a foreign concept. He'd have to teach her if she was going to be any good, and she was going to need to be good. Putting his arms on her shoulders he leaned forward.

As Turner leaned in to pluck a kiss Cheryl put her hands up against his pectorals. She didn't know quite what to do. This was so new to her.

Turner stopped. "What's this?"

Cheryl opened her eyes. Looking up like a scared rabbit. "What do you mean?"

"I think we have a confidence problem. Cheryl I'm not going to hurt you, just give you another kiss. You look pretty and deserve another one, but look where you've put your hands."

She was really confused now. She gave him another one of those doe eyed deer in the headlights looks.

"Listen." He said. "You have to learn to trust." He kept his hands on her shoulders and peered directly into her eyes. "Do you know how to swim?"

"Not really. I mean I had lessons, but I've never swum very much."

He explained. "In a little while you'll be out in a boat in deep water with me, Martin, and Sarah. You'll be the only non-swimmer. We'll all be there to help, but you've got to trust."

She was even more confused. "So."

"Well look at yourself. All I want to do is refine your kissing skills." He backtracked a little. "Not that I don't think you have the makings of a terrific kisser, but a little practice is in order."

She didn't get it. "I can kiss."

"Yes you can, but look at you. I go to kiss you, and you put your hands up to block my every move. I'm not going to bite you. Just kiss you. Now here." He took her hands and put them down on his hips. "You hold my hips while I kiss."

Cheryl felt meek maybe a little humbled. This was making her nervous. "OK."

Turner leaned forward and gave her a nice deep kiss. While he kissed he used his lips to suck hers outward a little. He pulled away with a little smack. "Now. How was that?"

She started to put her hands back up toward his pectorals, but stopped. She didn't say anything. She didn't know what she should say. Cheryl wanted to please him, but she didn't know what he wanted, not exactly anyway. "It was nice."

"No." He said. "Now look." He took her two hands and carefully pulled them so they were behind her back. "Keep your hands there. This is about kissing, but it's about trust too." He leaned forward and gave her another nice deep tender kiss.

This time she kissed back with her lips puckered up and all soft.

"Wow! That's a lot better, but I'm still not satisfied. If I'm going to take you out in the deep water today I need to have your trust and confidence, and this is as good a place to start as any."

She didn't completely understand where this was going, but she liked the kissing part, and so far he'd still been a complete gentleman. She leaned back against the door and kept her hands behind her back.

This time Turner took one of his hands and wrapped it around her wrists, more or less trapping her hands behind her back. He could feel her stiffen. "You stiffened!"

"I can't help it. I'm sorry."

He was having fun with this. "Listen, and repeat after me."

She nodded.

"You're my boyfriend."

"She replied. "You're my boyfriend."

He hesitated. "It's OK if I say that. I'm your boyfriend I mean."

She felt giddy. She knew she was blushing again. "Yes. It's OK."

He enjoyed the idea he could make her blush so easily. It made him feel more in control. "Now remember this is about trust. You'll be in the deep water later. Repeat after me. "You're my boyfriend."

"You're my boyfriend."

"Good. Now say.I'm your girlfriend."

"I'm your girlfriend."

"Very good! Now when I say He Man. You say?"

Cheryl was confused. This was new. "I don't know. What do I say?"

"When I say He Man. You say Good Little Girl."

"Come on that's silly."

"Now you're not listening. I'll start over." He was smiling very broadly in an effort to keep her at ease. "Repeat after me. "You're my boyfriend."

"You're my boyfriend."

"I'm your girlfriend."

"I'm your girlfriend."

"Good! Now I say I'm you're he man."

"You're my he man."

"You're my good little girl."

Cheryl smiled this time. "I'm your good little girl."

Turner gave her his biggest warmest smile. "Outstanding! Now I'll point and say something. Then you point and say the follow up. "OK?"

Cheryl had figured out the game. "OK."

He pointed at her. "Girlfriend."

She pointed back. "Boyfriend."

He pointed at himself. "He man."

She pointed at herself. "Good little girl."

He pointed at her. "Sweetheart."

Cheryl giggled. She couldn't help it. Nobody man had ever said that to her before in her whole life. "I don't know what to say."

"Say whatever you want."

She pointed back at him. "Sweetheart."

He laughed and started the whole line of interactive comments again. Everything he said elicited the response he wanted. Finally he shifted gears again. Now I'm going to hold your hands behind your back. I'm going to lean down and give you a kiss. What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to keep my hands behind my back. I'm going to close my eyes, and I'm going to kiss you right back."

Together, leaning up against her front door, her submissive and accepting, and him dominant and in control they kissed. Then they kissed a second time.

He looked down at her. "Trust?"

She looked up at him. "Trust."

Turner took her by the arm and walked her to his car. They had to pick up Martin and Sarah, and then they would be off to the boat. As he helped her into his car he took his right hand and turned her head to face him. He caressed her cheek with his hand. "This is going to be a great day."

She smiled like she'd just won a million dollars.

They reached the boat a little after 11:00. The sun was shining, the sky was clear, and there was a crisp warm wind, a perfect day for boating and swimming. Turner had already provisioned the boat with goodies and beer. He took the helm, ordered Martin to cast off and they were on their way.

The wind and the movement of the boat were mother nature's invitation to the girls to climb around and lay back on the prow. Turner was careful not to travel too fast as they moved down the river. It was a broad estuary that led into a large bay that eventually flowed into the ocean. The idea was to travel down where the river was widest, do some fishing, and pull in close to shore at one of the more secluded beach locations.

Martin watched as Sarah and Cheryl set out towels on the prow and enjoyed the sunshine, the wind, and the occasional shots of spray. In their black bathing suits, and the whipping breeze frothing through their hair they both looked beautiful. Sarah was his date, and she was gorgeous. He liked looking at her. He knew she was in love with him, but he thought of her more as a friend with benefits. He knew her, he could break it off, she'd feel bad for a while, but would recover and move on.

Cheryl was another matter. Though he knew she was there for Turner, Martin felt ambivalent. From a straight physical perspective the ugly duckling they'd originally seen at the bookstore was becoming a beautiful swan. He liked that. He also liked her new found poise, or was it just happiness. The girl on the prow was smiling, laughing, and genuinely happy, nothing like the dour spinster with whom he'd made first contact just a couple weeks before. The lonely little drudge was becoming the fairy princess. It was beautiful to watch, too beautiful. Her happiness was an illusion. Everything was falling into place, just like Turner wanted. He knew Turner was going to destroy this girl. When they were finished there wouldn't be much left. They'd done it before.

In college Turner's shenanigans, abetted by Martin's behind the scenes planning, had driven a girl to try suicide. That girl hadn't deserved it, but they were a lot younger and a lot more thoughtless. Martin remembered how he had maneuvered the girl into a date with Turner.

Turner, then as now, was all charm and no substance. He wined and dined that poor girl until she was eating out of his hands. Then he went to work. She was such a nice girl, and he pretended to love her. He said he had a friend, who'd lost his sweetheart in an accident, near suicidal the friend was, couldn't she be nice to him? One thing led to another. Soon the girl was in bed with one then another and then another of Turner's buddies. Turner was the big man at the Fraternity house. They passed that girl around and around. She believed in Turner. She loved him. He used her, he threw her away, and then he laughed about it, just like in high school. She broke down. Martin hadn't liked it, and though he'd never sampled the poor girl, he'd been in on it. Looking at Cheryl he saw the whole scenario playing out all over again.

Turner hadn't changed. He would make this girl feel pretty, be pretty, and then he would dismantle her. Step by vicious step he would unravel everything that was good and pure. The tragedy about the whole thing was this girl, like the others, would certainly see it, deny it, and then allow, even help, it to happen.

Turner had this mean sadistic streak, but Martin wasn't like that anymore. He knew he had changed. He would continue to do Turner's dirty work because they were friends. He'd always supported his friend. Still, though no girl deserved it, Cheryl especially didn't. Martin would help his friend destroy another innocent girl. He wouldn't like it, but he knew he'd do it. He always did what Turner wanted.

Turner watched Cheryl and Sarah from his seat at the helm. Cheryl really was a fine looking woman. A little heavy, but still she looked pretty good. He wondered how far he could take it. Hell, he wasn't a kid anymore. If he was going hit a home run this might be his best chance. He wondered what it would be like to be a pimp. She was a schoolteacher. If he couldn't get her honestly, he could finagle some pictures. Use the pictures to persuade her to make it a paying enterprise. She might never be a top draw, but he bet there were enough hard up men around to make her a pretty profitable little product. Yes. That made sense. He'd take this homely little spinster and turn her into a whore, his whore.

Turner yelled up to the prow. "Hey girls! Hang on tight. I'm going to turn the boat around and stop." He yelled to Martin as he slowed the boat. "Let's drop anchor here. We can fish and then maybe swim a little."

Martin yelled back. "Got it!" He went to drop the anchor. They were about one hundred yards from shore in about ten feet of water. The spot was deep enough to make it interesting, but still not too deep. It was a calm area, no currents or hidden surprises.

Turner turned off the engine and reached around to help the girls back into the cabin. "What will it be? Swimming or fishing first?"

Sarah answered. "Let's swim."

Cheryl, not being much of a swimmer kept her mouth shut. If the men wanted to fish a while that was fine with her.

Turner kicked in. "What about you Cheryl? Fishing or swimming.

"I'll go with the majority."

"Oh come on." Chimed in Sarah. "I'm hot. Let's get wet."

Turner looked at Cheryl. "Want to get wet?" He gave her a meaningful smile. "It'll be all right."

Cheryl looked back at Turner, at Sarah, then at Martin who wasn't saying anything. "OK. Let's swim."

Turner and Martin dove in the water, and swam out about fifteen feet. "Turner called out. "Come on in. It's warm like bath water."

Sarah followed with a dive of her own.

Only Cheryl was left in the boat. She looked over the side at the dark murky water. It looked like it was hundred feet deep, loaded with sharks, and the drop off from boat another fifty feet. She looked at Sarah. "Can you touch bottom."

Sarah disappeared and after several seconds returned to the surface. "It's maybe ten or fifteen feet down. Come on Cheryl."

Cheryl stayed in the boat.

Martin called out. "Come on Cheryl. We'll catch you."

Cheryl didn't move.

Turner swam to the side of the boat. "Sit on the side and dangle your legs. When I give the signal just slide into my arms."

She still just stood there.

Turner was at the side. "Hey girlfriend."

Cheryl looked down. "Boyfriend."

"He man."

"Good little girl."

"Trust me Cheryl."

She slid off the boat and into the water. "Wow! It's cold!"

He'd caught her so her face didn't get wet. Holding her close so no one else could hear he said. "See. I told you. Nothing to fear." He hesitated then said. "Trust?"

Cheryl, holding her arms tightly around his neck answered. "Trust."

"OK. Martin! Come over here. We're going to give Cheryl some swimming tips."

Martin dutifully swam over.

Speaking softly into Cheryl's ear Turner told her. "I'm going to push you over to Martin. He'll catch you."

"No. Don't."

"Trust Cheryl." He pushed her toward Martin who immediately caught her.

She clung to him momentarily but turned and dove right back to Turner.

For the next five, maybe ten minutes, it was a game. Turner threw Cheryl to Martin. She'd dive back to Turner. With each toss Cheryl gained confidence, and with each toss Martin retreated a few more inches. Cheryl found herself being thrown to Martin and doggie paddling back to Turner. Each time she got back he whispered. "Good girl. Good little girl." After fifteen or so such passes she felt, not just more sure of her own ability, such as it was, but more sure of Turner. On what turned out to be their last pass she pressed her head up close to his face, he put her hands at his hips and kissed her. She lay her head on his chest. He took his right hand and pulled her against him, while with his left hand he caressed her head. He whispered. "You're such a good little girl."

Martin heard the quiet remark. It was all too familiar. He turned and dove off toward Sarah who'd been paddling around on her own.

Cheryl pressed her head against Turner's chest. The water was cool, but she felt so warm. She thought. This must be love.

All four climbed the aluminum ladder back into the boat. While the girls dried off with thick beach towels, Martin and Turner inflated a fifteen-foot raft and filled it with the food supplies, two blankets, two umbrellas, more towels, and an assortment of fishing gear.

Calling to the girls to get in the raft the men used two small oars and paddled their way to shore where the girls laid out the blankets and the men set up the umbrellas. All four fell on the blankets to relax and rest, Sarah and Martin on one and Turner and Cheryl on the other.