Song for a Still River

Author's Notes:

'Song for a Still River' is my contribution to Literotica's Siren's Song Story Event.

Aside from the usual disclaimer below, I'm adding a Content Warning to this story. It contains subject matter that may distress sensitive readers. Consider yourself warned.

First published in 2018, it was given a little polishing on 2024.01.12 for publishing on Amazon and refreshing on Literotica.

All characters engaging in sexual relationships or activities are 18 years old or older.

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Song for a Still River

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Chapter 1

"Speak up,

please

! I can't hear you!"

Lorelei's lovely dark eyes lifted to see the teacher's annoyed expression at the back of the room. She was standing at the front of the classroom looking out at a sea of faces, and few showed any compassion. Instead, most displayed amusement and delight at her discomfort. To her disappointment, the majority of these were women, though there were a few men in that group as well. Other faces showed raw hunger like she was a piece of meat dangling before their savage jaws.

She shuddered and closed her eyes for a moment to take a deep breath and rein in her imagination.

Start again.

"My name is Lorelei Reichenbach. I was born in Germany. I immigrated to the United States when I was seven. I'm now a US citizen—"

"Yes, yes, thank you, Lori. I'm losing your voice again. You really need to work on your projection. Please take a seat..." the teacher scanned the room quickly and saw an empty desk. "The one behind Mr. Wupper is open," he finished, pointing to the seat.

"Mr. Whopper!" a male voice blurted in amused derision. A burst of giggles erupted, and the cheeks of the heavy-set young man flushed with humiliation.

"Settle down, people!" the teacher grumbled as he moved to the front of the classroom.

Lorelei clutched her books to her chest as she quickly moved from the front to the desk she was offered.

At six-foot-one, she had some difficulty fitting her long legs under the school desk comfortably. As Mr. Wupper had, wedging his considerable girth between the seat back and the desk. She heard a faint squeak, then picked up a foul scent and leaned away from the young man. He had a nervous stomach.

She'd be finding a new desk tomorrow.

She felt eyes watching her, so she glanced around furtively and spotted three ladies on the opposite side of the class watching her. All three were lovely blondes with slim, fit physiques. Two had obviously undergone breast augmentation surgery, while the middle one was more naturally proportioned. The two with the implants had long, wavy honey-blonde tresses, while the natural one had straight ash blonde hair that reached the middle of her back. What she could see of how they dressed and their jewelry indicated they likely came from wealthy families.

For all their beauty, their eyes held no warmth, so Lorelei looked away quickly. She heard an immediate burst of giggles from their direction.

This was Lorelei's third high school in four years, so she was becoming familiar with the trauma of trying to fit in with new environments. Her mother moved them each time she took on a new art director contract. Her skills were in high demand, and she'd been scooped away to join new ad agencies as her awards rolled in and her prestige rose. Unfortunately, this upward mobility in her career resulted in her daughter's life going through upheaval. The last three moves occurred in spring, forcing Lorelei to enter the final semester of classes in a new school as

the new girl

. Cliques were already formed, and the group dynamics prevented her from bonding with anyone.

Not that she would have chosen to involve herself in their groups. She just didn't relate to what other teens found important. She had the same issue in each school she'd attended. She just... didn't fit in.

This late-in-the-year arrival didn't mean she was ignored. In the two schools previous to this one, she'd received casual invites to hang out with the popular rich kids due to her looks. Her dark brown eyes had heavy lids which sometimes gave the impression she was bored or disinterested. This and her quiet nature attracted the cliques of wealthy, jaded teens. Maybe they saw her as a kindred spirit?

Along with her height and svelte curves, Lorelei had pale, unblemished skin and full lips, which she habitually painted with her favorite blue-black lipstick. She gave her nails the same color treatment. While it gave her a bit of a Goth look, it worked for her and made her happy.

Truth be told, she was a little obsessed with the color blue. She filled her wardrobe with all shades of the color, but her preference leaned towards the darker tones.

Her dark brows were full but softy angled, and she wore her straight dark brown hair loose, letting it hang down to the top of her ass. Her looks drew attention to her, but she never felt comfortable socializing with the other students.

Thinking she might be more comfortable in a public high school, she'd tried to get her mother to allow her to attend one, but the woman insisted on private schools. Best of the best and only the best, she'd asserted. She suspected her mother only wanted this to give herself bragging rights with her colleagues.

Lorelei knew this was only day one in the latest school, but she was already experiencing a difference. If she had to guess, the three ladies giving her the evil-eye were likely members of the school's elite. However, unlike her previous experiences, she hadn't picked up any sign of their intent to invite her in.

Just the opposite, in fact.

Again, she wasn't interested in the invitation, but the difference in attitude was noticeable. She hoped it wouldn't become an issue.

The classroom door suddenly swung open, and a tall, handsome, and muscular young man boldly entered the room with a grin on his lips.

"Mr. Tauber, you're late!" the teacher snapped. "Head down to the office for a late slip."

"Now, Mr. Saale. You know it's just going to create more disruption for the class if I have to make a second grand entrance," the dark-haired hunk said with a charming smile.

Lorelei could see the teacher's jaw muscles clench as he glared at his student with hate in his eyes.

"Take your seat," the man growled out through his teeth.

Nodding happily, the new arrival turned to walk down the second row to the open seat next to the blond trio. Those ladies were all smiles at his approach.

He glanced in her direction, then stopped dead to give her a second look and a delighted smile.

"Who have we here?" he asked smoothly.

"If you'd arrived on time, you'd have heard her introduction. Take your seat. We have to take attendance," the teacher asserted.

Throwing the older man an annoyed look, the student sat next to the middle blond, who was scowling at his interest in Lorelei.

The teacher finally began his roll call.

Lorelei glanced across the room as she felt eyes on her once more. Mr. Tauber was watching her with interest. When he saw she was looking at him, he nodded and mouthed a hello to her. Her eyes immediately caught the suspicion and resentment in the eyes of the three blondes behind him, so she quickly turned her face back to the front of the class. She didn't want any part of that drama.

She tried to ignore the noises coming from the other side of the room, where a quiet argument had erupted.

Soon enough, the bell rang and it was time to get to their first period. She hastily made her way out of the room and headed to Chemistry class.

She jolted in surprise as Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome quickly caught up and walked beside her.

"Hi, we never got a chance to be introduced. I'm Dale Tauber." He held out his hand expectantly.

She glanced at the hand and clutched her books to her chest tighter. "Lorelei Reichenbach."

He pulled his hand back with an amused smile. "That's a lovely name! Do your friends call you Lori for short? May

I

call you Lori?"

Missing the intent of his flirting completely, she frowned. "No. Do your friends call you

Da

? My name is Lorelei."

With that amused grin still on his face, he raised his hands in surrender. "Lorelei, it is!" He glanced at her chemistry book. "Chemistry is my next class as well. May I walk with you?"

"I think your friends would prefer that you didn't," she said as she began climbing the second-floor stairs.

"My friends... Oh! You mean Emily and the terrible two!" he replied.

Lorelei glanced sidelong at Dale. "Terrible two?" she asked, curious in spite of herself.

"Riley and Lily. The two blondes with the bad boob jobs?" Seeing her comprehension, his smile widened. "Yes, those two. Or four, in this case."

She had to hold her hand over her mouth to contain the snort of amusement.

Dale grinned in delight.

She schooled her expression and gave him a stern look. "These are your friends!"

"And they are very much aware of my opinion on the inferior nature of their... adjustments. Natural is beautiful." He held her eyes when he delivered that line, and she found her cheeks warming with the flattery despite being aware of his agenda. She'd met many similar Romeos during her school career. Sweet words, flirty smiles, and teasing to draw the smiles from her. All with the goal of scoring a kiss, a grope, or more. She'd managed to avoid and deny all attempts. Glancing at Dale's charming smile, she admitted to herself that he was far more attractive than her previous suitors. Still, she wasn't going to be an easy mark, and really, due to the timing, this was a non-starter.

"Back to my point, yes, those friends. I really don't want to create any enemies in my last months of high school. I heard the heated conversation between you in homeroom," she said.

"That? That was just a little disagreement," he said dismissively.

They entered the chemistry classroom, and she saw the lab tables were set up for two students per desk. The blonde trio were already at the tables closest to the door. Emily appeared to be waiting for Dale to take the second chair at her desk while Riley and Lily sat at the desk behind her.

Lorelei walked past, and Dale was following, so she stopped and put a hand on his chest to block him, much to his surprise. She looked into the wide eyes of Emily. "I believe this is yours," she said softly with a nod, then moved to the front of the class to sit at one of the empty desks.

The chemistry teacher approached, and she saw he was an older, white-haired fellow.

"You must be Ms. Reichenbach! Greetings! I'm Mr. Aller. I reviewed your transcript with the Principal and was pleased to see you have excellent grades. In chemistry as well! I think you'll do fine in my class!" He spoke with a soft voice and had a delightful British accent.

"Thank you, sir," she said with a small smile.

"The class now has an odd number of students, so I could add you as a third to an existing group, or you may work independently." He looked at her questioningly.

"Independently would be fine," she said.

He breathed a sigh of relief and, with a nod to her, made his way up onto the podium his desk stood upon.

She knew she was being watched from behind, but she pushed that from her mind. She had grades to maintain and only a few months to go before she'd be free of high school for good.

Chapter 2

Over the next few weeks, Lorelei gradually integrated into the flow of the school. She didn't bond with anyone but hadn't expected to.

After she clearly demonstrated she wasn't after Emily's boyfriend, the blonde's frost thawed, and she'd received a few friendly smiles from the woman in passing. Emily's two friends ignored Lorelei, and she was fine with that.

Dale, however, was proving to be a bit of an issue. He obviously wasn't used to rejection and refused to accept that his attention wasn't welcome. He kept that confident, amused smile on his face each time she rebuffed his attempts to get close, but she was starting to get the impression that it was all a front.

Weekends were Lorelei's salvation from the stresses of school. Unfortunately, this was just replaced with the cold tension of dealing with her mother. Every weekend, Beatrice returned from the city. Due to starting a new job, she was living at her boyfriend's apartment in Manhattan during the week. While it was only an hour's drive to New Canaan, Connecticut, with the crazy hours she was putting in at work, losing two hours a day to a commute was just too much. At least, that was how Beatrice justified it.

Lorelei wasn't thrilled that she was living by herself in the big five-bedroom house her mother insisted on buying in the affluent neighborhood. Beatrice wasn't completely comfortable with her daughter being alone due to her childhood issues, so she made a minimal effort by texting with an occasional call during the week. She hadn't completely abandoned her parenting duties, but Lorelei clearly picked up the impression that it was something she felt she

had

to do, not something she

wanted

to do.

It hadn't always been that way. They'd been a happy family... when her father had been alive. Her mother began to gradually pull away from her daughter after the tragedy of his death. Like she wanted to start over with a clean slate. But the change was so gradual Lorelei hadn't truly realized it until her teens.

It was Friday night, and Lorelei made her way to her sanctuary. One of the rooms in their two-story colonial was set up as a painting studio for her. She opened the window all the way to let the fresh air in.

She found painting to be very soothing for her mind and soul. A psychologist she'd spent a considerable amount of time with after her father died had recommended she take up painting as a means to get in touch with any suppressed emotions. The early paintings were rough and tormented, but little by little, she found peace, and her skills grew.

She painted scenics, each incorporating a river, stream, creek, brook, or waterfall. A pond or lake was often included, but the waterways were always the main element. Her unique technique of painting the water in the scenes had been poorly mimicked by others, but they never duplicated the sensation of movement. The impact of this element drew the eye like a magnet.

She'd become so skilled over the years and her art was so compelling, her mother took a few to an art gallery in Manhattan. Impressed by the raw talent, they accepted the paintings on consignment and were thrilled to sell out quickly. The gallery contacted Beatrice and signed a contract with the mother to get first dibs on any future paintings from her daughter. Over the years that relationship had been very profitable for both the gallery and Lorelei's mother. Collectors went into a bidding frenzy each time she delivered a new painting to the gallery.

Her art had an ethereal tranquility, and no two were the same. A renowned art critic once came to one of Lorelei's showings and spent the night standing before a single painting, unable to look away from the gentle tumble of a brook cascading over rocks. For the first time in his career, he joined the bidding and bought the painting, paying a small fortune.

Tonight, Lorelei was going to work on a new piece.

During a post-dinner wander through the neighborhood, she'd discovered a small river hidden in the woods, not too far from the house. She'd spent a few hours sitting on the water's edge, mesmerized by the water. The surface was almost still, but she could sense powerful currents in its depths. She'd desperately wanted to put her feet into the water but couldn't force herself any closer than a foot from its edge due to her inexplicable phobia.

She assumed her aversion was linked to her father's death.

Lorelei didn't understand why flowing water pulled at her soul so strongly. So, she used that desire in her art. The new painting was going to capture the stillness of the small river.

She heard the front door thump closed moments before her mother's voice called out. "Lorelei! I'm home!"

"I'm in the studio," she called back. Her muse was upon her, and she

had

to begin. The fresh canvas beckoned. She prepared her paints and started with a new brush.

Moments later, her mother stepped into the studio. The elegantly dressed woman walked up and offered her cheek. With the smallest of frowns for the distraction, Lorelei leaned down to kiss the cheek, then turned back to the canvas.

When Lorelei's art took over, her sensitivity to lies and deception heightened, and she had no patience for it. For her, painting was an outlet for the raw truth deep within herself. This left her wide open emotionally and mentally. To protect herself, she lashed out at what she perceived as threats to the truth.

Her mother had shown little compassion or empathy for her during these times and instead insisted her daughter just became an intolerable brat.

It hadn't gone unnoticed by Lorelei that she looked nothing like her mother. While she was tall, dark, and slim with brown eyes, Beatrice was a blue-eyed blonde, five-foot-six, and generously curved. Her mother's face was also square, while hers was oval.

Lorelei shied away from her memories of her father due to the intense trauma she'd gone through when he died. She'd only been five when tragedy struck, leaving her mentally scarred. But she did have some good memories. She remembered his eyes when he'd lean down to kiss her good night as he tucked his little girl in bed. They were always filled with love and had been the most beautiful shade of blue.

While he seemed like a giant in her memories, she recalled once seeing pictures of him with her mother, and they'd been evenly matched. He'd been stocky, maybe an inch taller than his wife, and had sandy blonde hair and a strong, square jaw.

While the superficial color attributes weren't proof on their own, having parents who shared none of their features with her affected her deeply.

Three years earlier, when a Biology class covered genetics and inheritance, it became too much for Lorelei. She and her mother had had an epic blowout. Lorelei had confronted her mother about the extreme differences between her and them. This, to her, was proof that she was adopted! She'd told her it wouldn't affect her love for them, but she needed the truth.

Beatrice had flown into an almost psychotic rage. When she'd calmed, days later, she insisted that Lorelei's father shared many of the same qualities as her, and she just didn't recall clearly because of her trauma. Lorelei was their biological child. End of story.

Soon after, Lorelei discovered her mother had disposed of all of the family photos showing her father. They'd had another blowout over that.

This unresolved argument remained between them from that day onwards and slowly ate away at the trust in their relationship. The introduction of her mother's new boyfriend also became a decisive source of friction between them. Lorelei's isolation grew, and she longed for the independence she'd have once she reached her eighteenth year and graduated high school.

As a New Year baby, she'd met the first of those conditions earlier this year. She'd immediately called the gallery and told them she wanted a new contract in her name, as all future dealings would be with her directly. They were very accommodating as they knew they had a guaranteed money-maker with her. Then she informed her mother that the money for all future paintings she'd create would go into her own bank account.

This assertion of control had the unfortunate side effect of accelerating the growing distance between mother and daughter.

As Beatrice looked around the studio, she crossed her arms. "How many paintings will this be?" she asked quietly and watched Lorelei's hands move in quick, precise movements. She didn't have this talent and envied her daughter for the release it gave her.