Ginny

  “First things first, Mr. Levy; you’ll learn hygiene, proper dress, et cetera.”

  “Jeez, I was hoping to …” he paused.

  She reached across the table, patted his hand and gave him a polite smile, saying, “Your uncle said that you are a straight-A student, a fast learner; there will be plenty of time for the sex talks at future sessions.”

  “But …”

  “Do you have a girlfriend?”

  No, that’s the reason I’m here, I really don’t know what to say to girls … uh … women.”

  “We’ll get to that.”

  “Good.”

  “Attire,” she said. “The magazines will help you … never wear blue slacks with brown shoes. Always wear black socks and shoes when wearing blue.”

  “I’ll remember that,” he said.

  “There’s another old saying, ‘Cleanliness is next to Godliness’,” she said. “You’ll be off to college in September, so you want to keep that in mind.”

  “I get the picture, Mrs. Bennington.”

  She tilted her head and gave him a wide smile.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Ha, you have cookie crumbs on your face.”

  He brushed his hand across his face and said, “I’m a nerd and a slob.”

  “You’re not a nerd or slob, but only your true friends will tell you about crumbs.”

  “We’re friends?”

  “Teacher-student relationships should be on a friendly basis,” she said. “Shall we continue?”

  “Yeah.”

  “One thing, never say, ‘yeah’, in polite conversation … always use proper English.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Bennington!”

  “Aha, I see you have a sense of humor—that’s good.”

  “I’ve been told that,” he said, smiling.

  “More tea?” she asked.

  “Yes, thank you,” he said as she moved to the stove for the teapot.

  He took a very deep breath, watching her demure movements; desirous thoughts drifted into his mind.

  A soft smile crossed her lips when she caught him looking at her.

  “Want more cookies?” she asked, pouring the tea.

  He nodded, his eyes scanning her breasts.

  “Mr. Levy,” she said, “There’s one thing we have to establish.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare at you … it’s … um …” he choked and sniffled.

  “Mr. Levy,” she chastised, offering a stern gaze.

  Embarrassed, he covered his eyes and began to get emotional. He stood up, sniffling.

  In a quick motion, she came around the table and embraced him, saying, “Now, now, let’s not cry.”

  His head rested on her shoulder as she rubbed his back and ran her fingers through his thick hair. She held him until the sobbing subsided.

  “Perhaps we should stop for now?”

  “Please, no, I want to continue, Mrs. Bennington,” he said. A single tear dripped down his flushed face.

  “OK, let’s get you cleaned up,” she said; she took his hand and led him to the bathroom, just off the kitchen. “Blow your nose, wash your face and then we’ll continue.”

  Minutes later he joined her. They sat together on the couch in the living room.

  She draped a blanket over their shoulders, asking, “Let’s snuggle here, OK?”

  He hesitated at first, but then slid in next to her, shoulders touching, with the blanket over them.

  “Comfortable?”

  “Yes,” he said, taking a long breath. “I’m so sorry … it’s just the loneliness that makes me miserable. I want a girlfriend like the other boys at school … why can’t I be normal?”

  “These lessons will not guarantee success of obtaining dates, but I will do my best to give you the tools you will need in social situations—situations that will put you in contact with the opposite sex.”

  “Thank you.”

  “First, I want you to get a haircut and be back next week, same time, to continue your education.”

  He asked, “Haircut?”

  “Yes, you should go for a different look, the look of adult distinction.”

  “Ha, you mean my look of boyishness is not working for you, Mrs. Bennington?” he asked with a slight smile.

  “Your sense of humor will work well for you in your new life as a young professional student. The ladies will like it, too.”

  “If you like it, then I’ll like it,” he said bumping closer to her.

  “Have your hair trimmed every ten to twelve days. Get rid of the hair growing on the back of your neck, your ears, trim the eyebrows and keep it off. The long hairstyle of Liberace does not suit you.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Yes, cleanliness; have a complete change of, hopefully, clean clothes, top to bottom, socks and underwear. Also, your body scrubbed clean and presentable. You see, Mr. Levy?”

  “Ha, it’ll be the new me, right?”

  “That’s right, my good man, and now it’s off with you until next week,” she said, rising to stand.

  “Parting is such sweet sorrow,” he said with a smile and stood facing her.

  He followed her to the front door where she handed over his jacket, “You’ll need this; it’s cold outside.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Bennington,” he said, hesitated and then asked, “Can I have a goodbye hug?”

  “You can, but you may not,” she said, smiling.

  “Ah, you got me with simple grammar—what was I thinking?”

  “Asking a lady before acting is a good point, Mr. Levy.”

  “So the answer is no?”

  “Yes.”

  “May I kiss your cheek?”

  “From a shy boy to an advancing man in short order,” she answered with a demure smile. “What’s a lady to do?”

  “Allow me this simple request, Mrs. Bennington.”

  “Do tell,” she said, backing away. “Have you come to me under false pretenses?”

  “No, I’m intoxicated by your beauty. Please forgive me!” he exclaimed.

  “I see. You’ve been reading romance novels lately?”

  “Yes. Too corny?”

  “No, as long as you use sincerity, you’ll be safe.”

  “So … ?”

  “I’m afraid; this banter must come to an end, Mr. Levy.”

  “Shame, my humble request has been denied, Mrs. Bennington,” he sighed.

  “OK,” she said, took his face in her hands and pressed a soft kiss on his lips.

  “Thank you.”

  “Next week,” she said with a wink. “The new furnace should be installed by then.” She ushered him out the door, as he danced away jumping in the air and clicking his heels.

  That night in bed.

  Mrs. Bennington couldn’t sleep. She missed her intimate talks with her husband at bedtime. She longed for the times when they would discuss their plights of the day and then enter a lovemaking routine, second to none, where the thrills of marital love brought forth a warm blissful satisfaction.

  She shed tears of sorrow and wondered if she could continue with the task at hand. Mr. Levy was of concern as she didn’t want to lead him on or vice versa—he’d drive her to uncontrollable lust, a feeling she noticed welling up in her in the moments after her brushing her lips on his just as he turned his back to start walking to his car.

  The Second Lesson

  Murray, excited, dressed in his finest suit, spiffed up with a fresh haircut. He rang the doorbell, a broad smile on his face.

  Mrs. Bennington, attired in a more conservative outfit, answered the door, “Come in please. Oh, Mr. Levy, I like your new look.”

  “Thank you,” he said and entered; his face fell, observing her plain appearance.

  “Is that not happiness to see me?” she asked.

  “No,” he lied.

  “Thank you; that was a gentlemanly white lie, I’m sure. Y
our uncle left only moments ago. The new furnace is finally installed, so we have a warm and comfortable house for your lessons.”

  “I understand,” he said.

  “Let’s sit on the couch,” she said, and asked, “Tell me, what were you expecting?”

  He smiled a sheepish smile but did not answer.

  “I could change, Mr. Levy, if that better fits your fancy?”

  “I liked the outfit you wore before,” he said and smiled.

  “Of course. Though, you should know, ladies have been known to take lots of time when they change clothes, and that could interfere with your lessons.”

  “I don’t mind waiting.”

  “We were going to talk about sex and the female body—breasts, genitalia, et cetera …” she paused.

  “OK,” he said, a delightful smile crossing his face.

  “Good,” she said, “Maybe it is better if we face each other. I will get my material from the bedroom, be back in a moment. Take a seat please.”

  He stood waiting for her.

  She returned seconds later sans the frumpy sweater; this time wearing instead a white short-sleeved blouse, the three top buttons undone, displaying the silver cross; her plaid skirt hung to her knees. He smiled when she sat in front of him, and then he unbuttoned his suit jacket and took his seat.

  She opened her notebook, took out a folded sheet, and held it up in front of her, image out.

  “This is the female vaginal area …” she began. “It’s called the vulva and anus.”

  “It’s just a pencil drawing?” he questioned, eyes open wide; “not the real thing.”

  “As you said, you haven’t had a girlfriend or sexual encounters. Where did you see—as you put it, ‘the real thing’, before?”

  “I saw a drawing once. A schoolmate back in the eighth grade had a medical book.”

  “You are not impressed, Mr. Levy?” she said with a frown.

  “It doesn’t look like a real woman; it’s just a cartoon drawing!” he exclaimed.

  “I thought we would start with this chart only to familiarize you with the female organs—their use and functions.”

  “A friend had some French postcards, and a woman does not look like your chart, Mrs. Bennington.”

  “Uh … this is a slight dilemma, young man.”

  “This might be the way to go with younger students, like seventh graders, but not with me. I’m eighteen, an adult, you know.”

  “Well, I do have a black and white photo … let me get it,” she said, got up and headed to her bedroom. “Be right back.”

  He came to his feet and waited.

  Mrs. Bennington walked back to the couch, and they sat down facing each other. She gave a demure smile and held the photo in front of her, image out. It depicted the frontal view of the female frame, above the breasts down to below the pelvis, of a naked woman, resting back on her elbows.

  Murray looked on with intense glee, a curious smile crossing his reddening face.

  She pointed to the chest area of the photo. “The breasts are very sensitive, especially around the nipples,” she said, swirling an index finger over the right nipple on the photo.

  He leaned in closer, eyes wide.

  Her right hand, finger pointing, moved over the image to the belly button and then to the pubic hair above the vagina; her voice softened as she continued. “The erogenous zones are under the skin, as nerve endings bring heat and thrills via the pudendal nerve to the clitoris.” Her finger lingered on the clitoris.

  He blinked his eyes and took a deep breath.

  “Manipulating the clitoris brings vaginal fluid up to the tip. The clitoris enlarges, like an erected penis and sends sensations throughout the area.”

  “Wow,” he said.

  “I always advocate that lovemaking should take place in a lighted area, especially in the beginning, so one can see the process with clear eyes.”

  “Oh.”

  “Shall we take a break?”

  “I want to learn more, Mrs. Bennington.”

  “We’ll have tea first,” she said, “Let’s retire to the kitchen.”

  He, in a clumsy way, stood as she set the photo aside and rose to her feet. She noticed a slight bulge in his pants and discretely glanced away as she headed to the kitchen, him following close behind.

  Mrs. Bennington served hot tea at the table, gave him a serious look, sat down facing him and said, “Mr. Levy, we have to talk.”

  “Am I in trouble?” he asked, blushing.

  She looked deep into his eyes and said, “No, not really. But, being student and teacher, things will have to continue to remain cordial and professional.”

  “I … uh … I see.”

  “I’m not sure you do, young man.”

  “Am I that obvious?”

  “You’re eighteen, Mr. Levy, old enough to be in control. I would say a fifteen-year-old would have—I’m trying to say that I’ve seen this happen many times with boys in the seventh-grade classes I’ve taught.”

  “I’m sorry, it was just the way your fingers touched the photo that made it happen. It was very sexy—sexy in a way I’ve never …” he hesitated, looking down.

  “Mr. Levy, what am I to do with you?” she asked with a deep sigh, her face blushing.

  “I think of you all the time. I dream of you, too.”

  “Oh? What kind of dreams?” she asked, eyes shining.

  “That you let me touch you, kiss you,” he looked down again with embarrassment.

  “Oh my God, I certainly didn’t expect this to happen, what to do?”

  “I’m hurting here, please help me,” he begged, sighed and continued. “Mrs. Bennington?”

  “I didn’t mean for this to happen; it’s my fault,” she said, her eyes tearing as she pushed her chair away from the table and in a breathless soft voice said, “Get up, come over to me now.”

  He moved around the table, stood in front of her, his knees shaking. Without interruption, she unfastened his belt.

  That night in bed, she concluded that she’d made a big mistake, one that had serious consequences. One that could sink her standing in the community, one that could derail her career as a teacher. She rolled over and cried herself to sleep, thinking about heated sex—sex she had not experienced in over nine years.

  Murray, too, spent a restless night in bed, thinking about this magical turn in his relationship with the sexy Mrs. Bennington. The way she satisfied him, stroked him and especially, her tender cleanup after the fact, left him in ecstasy. He was filled with want just thinking about her.

  The fact that she didn’t set up his next appointment puzzled him—was this the end?

  The following day at 7:45 p.m. in a drug store phone booth, not far from Mrs. Bennington’s house, he sat contemplating his next move. He picked up the receiver, deposited a nickel and dialed her number.

  She answered on the fourth ring, “Hello.”

  “Mrs. Bennington … it’s me.”

  “Me?”

  “Murray … ah … Mr. Levy.”

  “Oh, how may I help you?” she asked in a low sexy voice.

  “Last night, um, I was thinking … I mean, Mrs. Bennington, that I … that I … um … wanted to speak to you … about, you know?”

  “Where are you now?”

  “The drug store on the corner near your house,” he answered, his confidence fading.

  “Give me ten minutes and then come on over, I’ll be waiting at my door.”

  “Yes, Ma’am!”

  He tapped on the door at the awaited time in anticipation of seeing the lovely lady.

  She opened the door, stepped back and waved him in.

  He gasped at the sight of her in a floor-length, white, see-through nightie, as she closed and locked the door. She took his hand and led him toward the bedroom. He stopped at the door.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I have to pee,” he said in a s
haky low voice.

  Ten minutes passed and he entered the bedroom, seeing Mrs. Bennington, sitting on the side of the bed, feet on the floor in the soft muted light. She patted the bed beside her.

  He sat next to her and she took his hands in her hands, saying, “Mr. Levy, we have to reassess our previous conversation about privacy.”

  “Yes,” he whispered.

  “Everything we do from now on will remain in strict confidence, never to be spoken of again,” she said as she pursed her lips, blinked her eyes and asked, “understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “No locker-room talk!” she exclaimed.

  “I understand, Mrs. Bennington.”

  “Good. Now relax. We’ll do this together,” she said. “Now take a deep breath and hold it in.”

  They breathed in and then she said, “Let it out slowly.”

  They did the exercise several more times when she stood and dropped the nightie over her shoulders onto the floor.

  “Wow,” he said, taking in her breathless beauty.

  She said, “I’m going to lay down beside you and you’ll do my bidding, OK?”

  “Should I get undressed?”

  “Mr. Levy, this is about me. Now do as I ask.”

  “I’m confused.”

  “A good lover, a gentleman, always satisfies his woman first. Now begin using your hands and fingers,” she said, guiding his hands to her breasts, “and you’ll be duly rewarded afterward.”

  With her instructions, after thirty minutes of slow manipulations, the heated foreplay brought her the delight of a screaming orgasm. She shook for several minutes, holding him in a tight embrace.

  “Mr. Levy, the proper sexual care of a lady will always bring added pleasures.”

  “Now, my rambunctious Mr. Levy,” she whispered, “Let me take care of you.”

  “May I call you by your first name?” Murray asked.

  “We’re trying to remain professional partners.”

  “I’m learning every inch of your beautiful body … it seems proper to address you in a more intimate way,” he pleaded.

  She let out a sigh and said, “Bonita Marie.”

  He got up on his elbows, looked deep into her eyes and whispered, “Bonita Marie and Murray, Murray and Bonita Marie.” He took a deep breath and continued, “I like the sound of that.”