by Gars Méchant
Educating Goldilocks
Remastered
By Gars Méchant
Copyright 2015-2016 by Gars Méchant, all rights reserved.
Published at Smashwords by Gars Méchant
Cover design by Gars Méchant, Copyright 2016, all rights reserved.
Cover Photo © Canstockphoto/Mark2121
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any place or person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
This novel is intended for a mature audience only, and includes explicit descriptions of consensual sexual situations between adults. All participants are over the age of 18. If you are under the age of consent, find such descriptions disturbing, or are not in a jurisdiction that permits the reading of such descriptions, please do not continue reading this book.
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
Thank you for downloading this ebook. This ebook remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this work, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support.
Table of Contents
Copyrights and Cover Credits
Foreword
Chapter 1: Meeting Goldilocks
Chapter 2: School Work
Chapter 3: Getting Personal
Chapter 4: Strumming Her Banjo
Chapter 5: Getting Classy
Chapter 6: Dinner Time
Chapter 7: Game Night
Chapter 8: First Lesson
Chapter 9: First Lab
Chapter 10: Tutoring
Chapter 11: Eating Sexy
Chapter 12: Lathering Up
Chapter 13: Slurping Time
Chapter 14: It’s Better To…Receive?
Chapter 15: Finals Night
Chapter 16: A Sexy Dinner
Chapter 17: Pump And Circumstance
Chapter 18: Extra Credit
This Is Not The End!
Sample Chapter of Extra Credit
Other Books By Gars Méchant
About The Author
Foreword
I first started writing the book Educating Goldilocks almost twenty years ago. When I started it, it was a collection of short stories that I intended to publish online at a website now gone. It was to be my biggest achievement, my magnum opus. When I was done, it was perfect in all ways; the best porn that I or anyone could write.
In my one moment of wisdom, I actually filed it away with the intention of publishing it some time later, after people had discovered me through the other stories I was writing and publishing online.
That was exactly what I did. I published several other stories, and started to build up my reputation. When I finally felt the world, aka: that little part of the internet that had heard of me, was ready for my magnum opus, I opened it up to take a look at it before publishing it for everyone to read.
God, it was a mess.
I was shocked to find that it wasn’t anything like I remembered it. There were huge sections where Rob lectured the girls about all aspects of sex, when he could be showing them instead. Much of the dialog was clunky, trite, and sometimes—gasp!—boring.
I could have abandoned those stories. I had with others. But instead, I decided to spend time polishing them. It took three months of working on them part-time to fix everything, but I managed to do a pretty good job of it. When I was done, the original stories were only a bit over half of their former length.
I published one story at a time, as they were finished, to some recognition online. I published several more stories online, but life got in the way of writing, and I stopped for about a decade.
In that decade, the ebook reader was introduced, and then Amazon presented the world with the Kindle. I was taking college courses at the time, and one of my teachers remarked that he thought that the ebook reader was the way of the future, because nobody can see you buying or reading smut. It was immediately clear to me that he was correct, and after E.L.James went on to prove him extremely right, I decided to try to take my old material and make an ebook of it.
I figured I would create an anthology of my work, and publish it on Amazon. I opened up my word processor, and pasted in all of my old stories, and found myself disappointed that all together they were about 50- pages. Wanting to give my readers their money’s worth, I determined I would add in some stories I had been thinking about, but hadn’t written, and polish my old material.
I worked on that for a couple of months before stumbling across a book about ebook self publishing, and I read it. No, I devoured it.
The first thing I discovered was the existence of publishers other than Amazon, including the aggregator Smashwords. They’ve helped me immensely in getting my works published on sites besides Amazon.
One of the other pieces of information given almost as an aside in the book was the dimensions of a trade paperback book, as well as the font size and spacing. Realizing at that moment that I had not changed the default settings in my word processor, I took that information and reformatted the entire document.
About a half-hour later, my poor, old, overworked computer finished the job of reformatting all of my stories, and I discovered that I had written nearly 500 pages, 300 pages more than my minimum goal, and I didn’t feel like I was finished working on it yet.
My big mistake, which is pretty much the obvious one, was in thinking in pages. Writers count the length of their stories in words, not pages. Pages are too variable to have any meaning to a writer.
I had to make a decision at that point: Finish this enormous anthology, or do something else. I chose “something else.” I decided to compile my original “Goldilocks” stories into a book called Educating Goldilocks, and take the new “Goldilocks” stories and publish them in a book I titled Extra Credit. Other stories I would publish as they seemed to fit together. I also thought that I needed to be fair in the pricing. The original Goldilocks stories had been free, and it seemed unfair to suddenly charge for an edited version of them, so I decided to make Educating Goldilocks a free title.
In some way, it worked. Educating Goldilocks has been downloaded thousands of times from many different sites. And I suspect that if I hadn’t published this title for free, I wouldn’t have sold any other books. It works as an introduction to my other stories.
A year after publishing my first four books, I decided to give Educating Goldilocks a look over, and see if it needed more polishing. Of course I came to the conclusion that it does. And that is what you are holding here, the latest rewrite of my “classic” story of boy-meets-girls.
I hope you enjoy it, and I would truly appreciate it if you would write a review of this, and any other book, either way. Reviews are how people discover authors, and you do all of your favorite authors a favor by writing reviews of their works.
This is just the first book of the Goldilocks Series. The adventures of Rob, Amber, Lisa, and Maricela continue in Extra Credit, available through Smashwords, and at other major ebook etailers. For more information on currently available titles, you can visit my Author Page at Smashwords, and for information on my progress on upcoming titles, including more adventures of Amber and her friends, check out my blog at www.GarsMechant.com..
Chapter 1
Meeting Goldilocks
Our last fight was probably more remarkable for how quiet it was; certainly others had been louder. My girlfriend, Linda had just announced that she was leaving me, and wasn't being nice about it. She made no attempts to let me down easily. There was no "it's not you, it's me," crap; just, "Ya know, it shouldn't come as a surprise. There were signs."
/> "It shouldn't?" I asked, agog. "What signs? Last week, you said to me 'I love you, and I can't see myself with anyone else!'"
"That was last week," she said as a way of explanation.
"Last week, and pretty much every week for the last seven years!" I protested.
"Well, this week I met Henri on the light rail. He's graduating, and then we're going to France."
"So you're giving up on your education?"
"Nope, just some time off."
"When are you leaving for Europe?"
"In a couple of weeks," she said as she threw her backpack over her shoulder.
"Are you staying with him or friends until you go?"
"Him."
"Good. Good. Well, then," I said, thinking for a second. "You have everything?"
"Yep."
I opened the door and waved sarcastically. "Later," I said.
I don't know if she looked back as I slammed the door behind her. I didn't look outside. I wasn't interested in knowing if she felt some remorse.
I was angry.
Up until that day, we had been planning to get married that summer. At least, I thought that was the plan. If she was the type to leave me on such short notice, I knew I was better off without her. In theory. Probably. Well, almost certainly. I might be projecting backwards a little.
So, for the first time in my life I was living completely alone. I had no girlfriend, no room-mate, and no family nearby; Nobody to keep me down. Outside of work, I could do what I wanted, when I wanted. Heck, why not make lemonade out of this lemon? I could go out! I could have fun!
I sat down and got ready to call...someone. So we could do...something. You know, stuff. Like...things.
Without Linda holding me back, I could do anything I wanted with anyone I wanted. Too bad I had no idea what that was, or who I would do it with. I finally looked at my address book, and realized something: All of my friends lived half a state away, near my dad. Linda was pretty good at keeping me busy, and I simply didn't have time to make friends near our new home before she left. We'd moved over here for her college, which her parents paid for. Any friends I had in our new town were hers too, and I really didn't want to meet up with them after that humiliating fiasco.
I was beginning to feel something worse than simply the blues after being dumped: I felt trapped. I'd gotten the condo for the two of us. It was supposed to be the place for us to start our lives together. Why had she let me buy the condo if she wasn't serious about getting married? Why had she left me with this mortgage I couldn't get out of? Why had she led me across the state, cut off from my family and friends?
Those were the questions that concerned me for longer than I would like to admit. If I had been paying attention, I would have noticed that I was spending more time inside, in bed, but less time sleeping. I wasn't cooking anymore, just living on cheap microwave food. At work my patrols were taking longer, and things were getting past me.
It got to the point that my supervisor, Chris, pulled me into his office to talk.
"Rob, you gotta get things together," he said to me in his office.
"What do you mean?"
"You're not on your game right now. You're missing patrol points. You've lost track of time several times this month and let a patrol pass by. I'm not sure you're even paying attention to the monitors. It looks more like you're staring off into space. You can't do that, it's too important. I know you had it bad for Linda, but you gotta get over her. It's not doing you any good to be like this, and it's not hurting her."
"Yeah, I guess," I replied.
"I gotta see improvement soon, or I'm going to have to invite you over to my place to enjoy my wife's cooking. That's a threat."
Even the way I was feeling, Chris could make me smile.
"Good," he said. "Get back to work."
So, after weeks of wallowing in overly dramatic misery, I decided it was time to change something. I started by cleaning up what had become my unintended bachelor pad from top to bottom. Bedroom: Walls, dusted; Furniture, same; Floor, vacuumed; Bed, linens washed, but time for a new mattress. Check. Office: Furniture, dusted; Floor, vacuumed. Check. Bathroom: Scrubbed. Check. Laundry: Washed, dried, folded. Check. Stairs: Vacuumed. Check. Living room: Dishes in the kitchen; Floors vacuumed; Furniture dusted. Check. Dining nook: Pile o'dishes now in the kitchen; Table scrubbed; Floor mopped. Check. Kitchen: Eew. Okay, so, let's start somewhere.
I hadn't cooked since Linda left, and barely kept up with any dishes. The kitchen was going to take time.
As I cleaned the kitchen, I thought about cooking. I like to cook. I'm good at it. So was Linda, which meant I hadn't often. However, I enjoy the smells, the experimenting, and creating something new and tasty.
Cleaning the kitchen took time, but it was beginning to look right. And as I thought about cooking again, I discovered that I missed my dad's fresh vegetables and herbs. My Home Owners Association wouldn't let me have a real garden, but they would let us plant ornamentals. As I prepared the kitchen for life again, I decided it was time to plant some "ornamental" herbs in my little side plot. It may not be quite as good as having fresh sun-ripened tomatoes straight off the vine, but fresh snipped rosemary, basil and sage can help make up the loss when added to a salad, pizza, or an oven-roasted chicken.
Before I knew it, the kitchen was: Dishes, washed, scrubbed, and sanitized. Floor, mopped. Counters wiped. Refrigerator cleaned, dusted, and a new box of baking soda. Pantry emptied of expired food. Check!
The next day I set out to get a new mattress and box springs, and after the old ones were hauled off, and I had put on the fresh linens, I enjoyed the best sleep I had had in quite some time.
As I got back into the habit of cooking I thought about dad's garden and the little plot outside my living room window. I needed some kinds of herbs for my kitchen, since I doubted I could sneak tomatoes past my Home Owners Association. I set aside the next weekend to plant it.
That first day turned out to be a really nice late spring day. I was in the process of digging up the old flowers from the bed when I saw an older model sedan drive up to one of the houses visible from my condo, and let out a rather attractive young woman who seemed quite upset.
She looked like she was in her late teens, about the same age as the man at the wheel. He hadn't the time to get out of the car to help her out when she exited the car and slammed the door. She turned around and shouted through the open window, "...and don't think about calling me! I don't want to ever hear from you again!" Then she stormed off into the house.
That was a bit of a surprise. I lived in a quiet neighborhood. Most of the neighbors kept to themselves, but were cordial to one another. I hadn't heard a single argument since Linda had moved out, so this was definitely memorable.
I decided that it was none of my business, and went back to preparing my plot, digging up the old ground cover and flowers, and adding in compost and sand for the new herbs. I assume it must have been almost an hour later when I noticed the same young lady walking along the sidewalk past my condo.
I've never been the sort of person who finds it easy to introduce myself to other people. If she hadn't interrupted me, I doubt I would have said anything to her at all.
She stopped near my garden, watching for a moment until I stopped digging. When I looked at her she met my eyes and said, "Hi."
"Oh, hello," I replied. "Uh, nice day today, wouldn't you say?"
"Yeah, it is, I guess," she said. She was wearing the cut-off jeans that were still popular around here, and combined it with a midriff baring yellow tank top. It was obvious that she was a rather attractive young woman, but her wide mouth that was meant for smiling was turned into a slight pout.
"Yes, a...a beautiful day. Just warm enough to work in short sleeves and not hot enough to break out in a sweat. I love weather like this. How about you?" I flunked Small Talk 101 in school.
"Yeah. Yeah, I guess it is pretty nice," she said. It wasn't any of my business, but I figured
that if she wanted to talk about her argument, it would be best to let her start that part of the conversation.
"I love it. It's the sort of day you definitely want to spend outdoors," I said as I stretched out the stiffness I felt from planting.
"Yeah," she said. She was quiet for just a moment before a smile crossed her face. "Why is it that people, like, always talk about the weather?"
"Well, I guess it's a safe subject. I mean, it matters, but bringing up the weather isn't likely to offend anyone."
"Oh," she said. I got the feeling that she'd meant the question rhetorically and was laughing at me inside.
I was going to get back to my garden, when she took a step toward me and said, "My name's Amber."
"I'm Rob," I said as I took her proffered hand.
"Yeah, I know," she said with a slight smile as she continued to shake my hand.
I didn't know what to say about that, and continued to shake her hand until she let go. "Nice to meet you. Were you off to somewhere just now?"
"I was, like, walking over to the mall. I like to go there just to think."
"The mall seems like a crowded place to go to think," I remarked.
"Nah. Unless you're there with your friends, it's just like being alone."
"Do you have a lot to think about?" I knew part of the answer, but I wanted to see how much she was willing to volunteer.
"Well, yeah."
So, not much.
"I'm getting a bit thirsty," I said to end the silence that was forming. "Could I offer you something to drink?"
"Sure!" she said a bit more eagerly than I had expected. I walked into the condo and turned around to ask what she wanted to drink.
"A soda's okay. Or water," she replied to my unasked question from right behind me. I was expecting her to wait outside for me to bring her something, but she had followed me in. I'm not used to attractive young women just walking into my condo, so I was a bit surprised. I did my best not to let it show.