Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Romantic, Science Fiction,
Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Life gets interesting for Sid when he discovers what it means to be a hero according to the rules of Crossroads.
Cynthia Johnson eased into her seat hoping to be noticed, but terrified of becoming the center of attention. Her shoulder length sandy hair, complete with bangs that nearly covered her eyes, was cut to blend in with the hair styles worn by hundreds of other coeds on campus. She wore simple clothes, plain blue jeans that weren't tight and a slightly overlarge sweatshirt. Everything about her was selected to look average. Shy by nature and plain by intent, she managed to disappear into the background.
From her seat in the back corner of the room, she watched the door waiting for 'Him' to arrive. Even in her thoughts, there were quotes around the word him. As far as she was concerned, Sid was the sexiest man she had ever seen. His military posture conveyed a manliness that took her breath away. His Mediterranean features and excellent physique caused a reaction between her legs that spoke of sexual desire. When he answered a question in his intense manner, she wanted to faint.
It was easy to tell when Sid entered the classroom. The other women in the class raced to the desks around the one where he normally sat. Almost as one, they all turned their heads to watch him move through the room. Cynthia lowered her head as if to examine her desktop. From the corner of her eye, she watched him enter and take a seat. Her heart raced at the sight of him, but she cursed her shyness. This was as close as she was going to get to him.
Sid looked around the room and examined the women crowded around his desk. There were fewer women fighting for seats near his than a week ago. Apparently, a number of his admirers didn't appreciate his description of his ideal woman. At least the ones sitting near him were not showing off their navels with metal piercings. He sighed and thought of Sally Caretaker. Three more weeks before he could see her again.
Professor Susan Smith entered the classroom carrying a stack of papers and stood in front of the class for a moment. Rather than call the role, she handed out the papers without saying a word. Sid accepted his paper and stared at it. There was a grade of A-plus and a single comment written across the top, 'I completely disagree with your conclusion.' Puzzled, he watched her hand out the rest of the papers wondering why she disagreed with him. Sid focused on the lecture putting the strange comment out of his mind.
The class passed quickly and without incident. The lecture covered the topic of the paper, contrasting the Wife of Bath with Queen Guinevere of King Arthur fame. She made all the same points in her lecture that he had made in his paper. After making the next assignment, she dismissed class.
Sid waited for the classroom to clear before stepping over to the desk. Standing at parade rest, he looked at the instructor and asked, "Was there a problem with my paper, Professor Smith?"
"I had a question about it," replied the woman as she studied her favorite student. His paper was the best she had ever received from a student, but she was confused by his conclusion. It was the first time one of her students had argued that Guinevere was a total failure as a wife. Very puzzled, she looked up at him and asked, "Was Guinevere really that bad of a woman?"
"Of course," answered Sid as though shocked that someone could argue otherwise.
"She failed her duties and responsibilities as wife and queen," replied Sid surprised that she didn't understand why he answered in the manner that he had. He added, "She was the reason Camelot fell."
Professor Smith sat back and thought about his answer. It had the kind of absolute judgment about duty and honor she had come to expect from the young man. She asked, "What about her love for Sir Lancelot?"
"What about it? She should have sought out an alternative solution to her love that wouldn't bring down the kingdom," answered Sid.
"She had no choice," replied Professor Smith. Changing tactics, she asked, "What about Lancelot?"
"He was just as derelict in his duty to king and country," answered Sid with his back straight and jaw thrust forward. The idea of the knight undermining the authority of his king by putting him in a position of cuckold was far more repugnant than he could express. In many ways, he blamed Lancelot for his actions more than he blamed Guinevere.
"They were driven to their actions by love. They had no choice."
"There is always a choice," answered Sid. The behaviorists talked about fight or flight as the two fundamental choices of all animals when faced with danger. Humans with their desire for perfect solutions often forgot that the majority of solutions to problems were imperfect. An imperfect solution was not necessarily an unacceptable solution and an acceptable choice did not necessarily mean happiness.
"You believe that?"
"It's the sixth fact of life," replied Sid with a curt nod.
"Name one choice that she had," charged Professor Smith expecting him to name the trivial choice of doing nothing about her love for Sir Lancelot.
Sid was silent as he considered the number of choices that she had. Finally, he said, "She could have told Arthur of her desires. He loved Sir Lancelot and would not have stood in their way. He might even have invited Sir Lancelot to share their bed."
His answer surprised Professor Susan Smith. She did not think that Sid was the type who would think that a reasonable solution. She asked, "Are you saying that they could have had a threesome?"
"And you would have a better opinion of Guinevere if she had done that?" asked Susan.
"Of course. All three of them could have upheld their duties and responsibilities to each other and the kingdom," answered Sid. With a smile as he thought about his answer in context of the story, he said, "Of course, it would have been a very different kind of story."
She thought for a moment about his previous answer. Earlier in the semester, he had stated the first and second facts of life. Now, he had stated what he called the sixth fact of life. Curious about what might be the third fact of life, she asked, "What's the third fact of life?"
"Physics rules the universe and biology rules life," answered Sid.
Wondering where he had gotten his facts of life, Professor Susan Smith chose not to pursue the topic. She decided it would be a better topic for another time. Instead, she said, "Thank you."
Professor Susan Smith watched Sid leave the classroom with interest. Once he was gone, she opened her notebook and wrote down his facts of life. He was the first individual whom she had met who viewed the facts of life as something more than a lecture about the birds and bees. The semester wasn't even half over and she was contemplating inviting a student to her house.
After leaving his English class, Sid went to his American History I class. For the first time, he went into the class anticipating the lecture rather than viewing it as a necessary duty that had to be performed. His single experience in Chaos had given him a much deeper appreciation of a subject that had been a burdensome requirement.
He listened to the subject matter with a new perspective, namely one that focused on how people worked and lived. The mention of pottery reminded him of the clay field that he had seen worked while in Chaos. He wondered if he had made a mistake by taking American History I rather than World History I. The latter course covered an earlier period of human history and probably dealt with technologies closer to Chaos than the former.
After his history class ended, Sid went to the student center to eat lunch before he was to work in the library. Grabbing a burger and fries, he went over to a table and sat down. Opening his notebook, he read his notes from class while eating. He had been assigned another paper in history and he considered what would be necessary to address the assigned topic.
Concentrating on his notes while absently eating his fries, he was not immediately aware that he had company at his table. His visitor, Cynthia Johnson, couldn't believe that she had actually gathered the necessary courage to sit down at the table with him. This was so unlike anything she had ever done in her entire life. Summoning the last of her courage, she said, "Excuse me."
Surprised to learn that he had a dining companion, Sid looked up at the plain woman. His eyes flicked over her face, down to her body, and back to her face without recognizing her. He couldn't help but wonder what she could possibly want from him. In as polite of a voice as he could muster, he said, "Hello."
"I want to be like her," stammered Cynthia, the words tumbling out of her mouth. She couldn't believe that she had actually managed to get the whole sentence out. At his confused expression that crossed his face, her cheeks turned red. In an attempt to clarify what she was talking about, she added, "You know, her, the one you told us about in class."
Still not sure what she was talking about, he cautiously replied, "Okay. I'm glad to hear that. What is it that you want of me?"
"I want you to teach me how to be like that perfect woman," said Cynthia in a very soft voice. She had reached the end of her courage and looked around the student center for a second preparing to flee the table.
"I don't know if I can," replied Sid surprised by the request once he realized what she was asking of him. His eyes flicked over her trying to imagine the plain woman dressed and acting like Sally. She would never be the same as Sally, but there was potential present in the woman.
"If you can't, then maybe she can," countered Cynthia.
"I don't think that is possible," said Sid thinking about the possibility of taking the woman to Crossroads. He wondered if he had been unwise in describing Sally Caretaker to the class. He recalled the gossip about his uncle and his references to Elizabeth.
The idea that Sid thought it was impossible for her to become like his ideal woman was crushing for poor Cynthia. At the thought of how he must view her, a sudden flood of tears filled her eyes. Deciding that she had made enough of a fool of herself, Cynthia stood and fled the room leaving behind a very startled Sid Jones.
Sid had no idea that his reply to her request to have Sally help her had been misinterpreted. Her sudden flight forced Sid to consider how difficult it had been for her to approach him. He understood that she was shy. She was, in her own way, a damsel in distress. Her plight touched his heroic side and he wondered what he could do about it.
As Sid sat eating the rest of his meal, he wondered about the rules concerning Crossroads and if they were as restrictive as Sally had told him. Then he realized that he didn't really know the rules of Crossroads. There were a lot of things that he didn't know. Why were the women so willing to risk their lives on Chaos? Why had Jennifer and Sally been so happy about the pregnancy? Why had Jennifer had to leave so suddenly? Thinking about it, he realized that the next visit was going to be spent getting answers to his questions about Crossroads.
Sid returned home from school and wandered around the house feeling frustrated by his thoughts about Crossroads and Chaos. Entering the study, he recalled the notebook that had been in the safe with the letter instructing him how to enter the portal. Curious about the information contained within it, he went to the safe and removed the notebook.
Sitting down at the desk, he proceeded to examine the journal very carefully. It appeared as if it had been constructed from three different notebooks that were bound together to form the journal. Each part utilized a different texture paper with different distances between the lines. In a few places, pages had been ripped out as though his uncle had chosen to destroy them rather than allow others to read what he had written.
The first part of the journal described how Gerald had been engaged in a brutal firefight with Japanese soldiers on Kwajalein Island and how he had killed a particularly brave man. The man had gone down protecting his fellow soldiers in a desperate last stand at the naval base. On searching the body, Gerald had found a diary and, deciding that he wanted to know more about the brave fellow, had kept it. It took him a year to decipher the writing, but what he discovered had amazed him. Inside the diary were detailed instructions on how to create a portal to another world.
The instructions for creating the portal were deceptively simple. On a doorframe of glass of sufficient size to step through, the builder was to place thin films of various metals electronically isolated from each other. The layers were to be of gold, aluminum, tin, platinum, copper, and zinc in that order with a final layer to be made of electrum. According to the diary, passing through the frame with a blue sapphire of sufficient size would send a signal through the ether to the machinery of a distant planet. The machinery would cause the immediate transferal of the individual passing through the frame to the distant planet.
The instructions were sketchy and lacked a scientific explanation of how it worked. The journal did say that the frame of glass could be mounted inside of an appropriate cover to be hidden from view. Curious, Sid went to the closet door and examined the entry to the closet carefully. From what he could see, it was clear that Gerald must have put the glass frame inside the doorframe.
The middle part of the journal described a set of experiments that Gerald had performed in trying to transport things with him to Crossroads. All of his attempts to take weapons across the portal failed with Gerald ending up in Crossroads and, as he discovered on his return, the weapons remaining on the floor of the closet. He had been able to take his clothes and papers, but nothing mechanical or electrical in nature. Sid did notice that his uncle had never tried to take another person through the portal with him.
In reading the journal, Sid was surprised to learn that there had been occasions when Gerald had not been able to go through the portal. Most of these occasions were when he was ill or became ill within a few days of the attempt. This convinced him that the original inhabitants of Crossroads had put in a failsafe to prevent the spread of diseases across the planets. The other time had been after Gerald took a prescription with the side effect of erectile dysfunction. When his ability to perform sexually had returned, he was allowed through the portal without a problem.
There was also a warning that attempting to stay in Crossroads would have very nasty consequences. Gerald described how trying to stay even a few minutes after the damsel had left had resulted in difficulty breathing, headaches, nausea, and cramps. Staying more than five minutes was too long. On one occasion, Elizabeth had to push him through the portal because he was unable to make his way on his own.
Sid had not been aware of the need to leave so quickly on his last visit. He had left feeling a little unsettled at how abruptly Sally had sent him on his way. The realization that it was a rule of Crossroads rather than a desire on her part was very comforting. It confirmed his belief that the relationship developing between them was more than just a passing thing.
The last part of the journal described Gerald's relationship with Elizabeth Caretaker. In true character of the old man, there were no hints of sex in the description -- other a few cryptic remarks that he had become close to Elizabeth in the manner of man and wife. There had been numerous pages torn out of this part of the journal. Of particular interest to Sid were a few reports of arguments between Gerald and Elizabeth.
The first argument that caught his interest concerned the first return visit after Gerald learned that he had made one of the damsels pregnant. The circumstances in which Gerald had learned of the pregnancy were almost identical to those in which Sid had found himself -- a quick exit by the young lady in question after dropping the news followed by a quick exit from Crossroads for Gerald.
Sid read how Gerald had returned to Crossroads determined to marry the damsel and raise the child. He saw it as a matter of honor for him to take responsibility for his actions. Elizabeth Caretaker had refused to allow him any contact with the damsel. Without her cooperation, there was nothing that he could do. He had been shocked by the sudden appearance of jealousy, particularly in light of the effort that she had taken for him to have sex with the damsel.
Over the first few visits, there had been many arguments of that nature. It was later in the journal when Gerald speculated that he had made every damsel pregnant. He decided it was the reason that the women of Cassandra participated in the game. Sid considered that information along with the fact that Sally and Jennifer had both commented on how different men from Earth and Cassandra were in bed. He wondered if the men in Cassandra were unable to ejaculate. That might mean that the women were so desperate for the chance to be mothers that they would accept a total stranger to father the child.
Sitting back in his chair, Sid stopped reading and thought about what it meant to be a sperm donor. He didn't mind the thought that he might be viewed as genetically superior to the men of Cassandra, but he did want his role to be placed in a more honest context. If he was a sperm donor, then what was the point of the game? Then it dawned on him - the whole point of the game was to assure that he was genetically superior in terms of survival and character.
He closed the journal and returned it to the safe deciding that he was going to have to think about the matter for a while. He had learned much, but didn't understand everything he had read. The information put his relationship with Sally and the damsels in a totally different light.
Thinking about relationships reminded him of the woman who had sat at his table earlier that day. He didn't even know her name, but her plea for help touched him. For a long time he sat at the desk wondering what he could do for her.
Sid waited for the young woman after his English class with a note in his hand. It seemed to him that she was taking forever to collect her books and leave the classroom. He hadn't noticed her in the past and wondered if her dawdling was normal. If so, he wasn't impressed. As was the case when he had first met her, she was dressed in baggy clothes that hid her body. Looking over her attire, he wasn't impressed.
Embarrassed by her actions in approaching him and hurt by his comment that she was hopeless, Cynthia hung back in the classroom. She waited for him to leave so she wouldn't have to face him, but he continued to wait at the door. Firmly convinced he was waiting to make fun of her, she hoped that by moving fast enough that he wouldn't have a chance to mock her as she passed. Scared, she gathered her nerve and, hugging her books to her chest as if they were armor, she rushed towards the door.
Blocking the door in an attempt to force her to stop, Sid said, "Excuse me. I have thought about your request and would like to discuss it with you further."
Cynthia stopped in her tracks wondering if he was actually going to help her become like the woman he had described. She had been so prepared to hear a nasty comment that it took a minute to for it filter through her mind that he wanted to talk with her. Her face turned red upon realizing that she had misjudged him. Embarrassing her further, her voice squeaked when she asked, "Can you help me?"
"I am not sure if I can help, but I would like to try," answered Sid with a serious expression on his face.
A student tapped him on the shoulder to request he move out of the way. Sid stepped out of the room and into the hallway. Cynthia followed, keeping her distance out of fear of public humiliation. As the student stepped around them to get into the classroom, Sid added, "I think we should talk about it in a less public place."
"Okay," she replied relieved that he wasn't making fun of her, but wondering what he wanted from her for his help. She bit her lip and looked into his eyes -- seeking and finding compassion.
Handing her the slip of paper he had been holding throughout the discussion, he said, "Here's my address and phone number. Call me and maybe we can meet Saturday."
Her heart beat strongly as she stared at the sheet of paper and mumbled, "Okay."
Glancing at his wristwatch, he said, "Sorry, I have to go to my history class."
"Sure," she replied as she continued to stare at the sheet of paper. She couldn't believe he had given her his address and telephone number. Although she would never admit it aloud, it was her greatest hope that he might be interested in having a relationship with her. A student sliding around her made her realize she was partially blocking access to the door. She looked around the hall to discover that Sid had left.
Sid set a platter with pastries from a local baker on the table with care. Gerald had always said that a proper soldier should understand and practice etiquette. The art of graceful living was as important to winning a war as martial abilities. Treating a person with good manners and the appropriate respect could turn a potential enemy into a friend. Stepping back, he examined his work with a critical eye and decided the table setting was perfect.
A soft knock on the door that he could barely hear let him know that his guest had finally worked up the courage to come to the front door. He had seen her park her car in the street ten minutes earlier. Stepping out of the dining room, he walked briskly to the front door afraid that any delay would cause her to flee. Opening it, he smiled and greeted the young woman standing at the door. "Hello, Cynthia. You're right on time."
"I didn't want to be late," she replied.
Stepping back, Sid waved an arm in a gesture of invitation and said, "Come in and welcome my home."
Nervous, Cynthia took a few tentative steps into the house. She almost jumped when she heard the door shut behind her. Looking around, she said, "Your parents have a lovely house."
He smiled at the assumption that he lived with his parents. There was no way that he would bring a guest into his parent's house, but there was no way for her to know that. Sid replied, "This is my uncle's house. He left it to me in his will."
"Oh," said Cynthia. She wanted to hit herself in the head, but refrained from making the gesture. It seemed that every time she said something that it was wrong. She hadn't even known that his uncle had passed away.
"Please come into the dining room. I have prepared a small snack for us to eat while we talk," invited Sid in his rich warm voice that sent shivers through the young woman.
She protested, "You didn't need to go to all of that trouble for me."
"Nonsense. It is a pleasure to entertain," said Sid. He turned and extended an arm to take her into the dining room. Seeing that she didn't know enough to accept it, he dropped his arm before gesturing towards the entry. He led the way into the dining room.
Entering the dining room, Cynthia gasped in amazement. The table was polished to the point where it shined. Woods that she didn't recognize were inlaid in a rich intricate pattern. Once she lifted her eyes from the surface of the table, the first thing she noticed was a small vase with a single white carnation. She turned her attention to the end of the table. On opposite sides of the table were lace place mats. The china plate, saucer, and cup, placed with precision on the place mat, were of outstanding quality. Between the place mats was another piece of lace upon which there was a plate of pastries.
Cynthia was stunned that this military looking man was able to set such a nice table. Almost afraid to touch anything, she said, "It's beautiful."
Sid went over to a chair and pulled it out for her. Nodding to it, he said, "Please have a seat."
In her entire nineteen years of life, Cynthia had never had a man pull out a chair for her. Her face flushed red in fear of making a fool out of herself. She walked over to the chair and sat down with as much care as she could manage. Sid pushed the chair so that she was seated the proper distance from the table. Blushing, Cynthia said, "Thank you."
"You're welcome. Would you prefer tea or coffee?" asked Sid as he moved to the end of the table where she could see him.
"Whichever is fine with me," she replied wondering which would be the proper answer.
Since he had expected that answer, he had a pot of coffee already prepared. Smiling, he said, "Excuse me for a minute."
"Okay," replied Cynthia feeling as if she was behaving like an ill- mannered clod. Ever since entering the house, it had become very clear to her that she didn't know how to behave in polite society. She decided that it had been a stupid idea to ask him to help her become a woman like the one he had described in class.
As Sid filled a small coffeepot with coffee, he thought about the young woman in the other room. It was clear that his attempts to make her comfortable were not working. There was so much that she didn't know and it seemed as if every action exposed her ignorance that much more. Yet the reason for her presence in the house that day was to learn how to look and act like a lady of grace.
He carried a tray with the small china coffeepot into the dining room. Also on the tray were a sugar bowl and a small cream pitcher. Placing the items on the tray upon the table, he set the tray on a sideboard. Cynthia watched his every move, mentally taking notes on what he did and how he did it. Smiling at her, he took the seat across from her. He had learned her name when she had called to set up a time for a visit, but that had been a brief, 'Hello, this is Cynthia.' After settling into his chair, he said, "I fear that we have never been properly introduced. I'm Sid Jones."
"Oh... Ah... I'm Cynthia Johnson," she stammered.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Johnson," Sid said.
"Ah... Same here," she replied.
Picking up the coffeepot, Sid said, "Could you hand me your cup?"
"Sure." She picked up the cup and held it out for him.
He smiled at the fact that she had picked up only the cup rather than the saucer with the cup on it. Gently, he corrected her, "On the saucer, please."
Almost dropping the cup, she realized what he meant. Placing the cup upon the saucer, she picked up the saucer and held it out to him. When he grasped the saucer, he said, "Thank you."
She released the saucer and watched as he filled the cup with coffee. Once he had finished, he handed it back to her. She accepted it without saying thank you. Pulling the saucer from his hands led to a minor spill. An exasperated expression crossed her face as she realized why he had the thanked her earlier. It was a phrase used to let the other know when you had control of the saucer. She apologized, "I'm sorry for spilling the coffee."
"No apology is needed. That is what the saucer is for," explained Sid. Diverting attention from the most recent embarrassment, Sid said, "In the past, it was expected that the host would add the cream and sugar for the guest. Today, that tradition is not kept with the same rigor. I hope that you don't mind my adoption of the more modern practice."
"Oh... Ah... I don't mind."
Sid picked up the plate with pastries and finger cakes as he asked, "Would you care for a pastry or cake?"
She picked up a couple of finger cakes and set them on her plate. Once she had been served, Sid prepared a cup of coffee for himself and took a pastry. He took a sip of his coffee and then said, "I have given some thought to your request."
The sudden reminder of why she was there jarred Cynthia. She squeaked, "What have you decided?"
"There are three areas where you need help the most," replied Sid wondering how to tell her what he had observed about her.
"Three?" asked Cynthia thinking it was just a matter of dress.
"First, you need to change your wardrobe," said Sid as he looked at the loose sweatshirt and blue jeans she wore. Licking his lips, he offered, "I can help you with that."
"Second, you need to take Etiquette lessons. Mrs. Wilson, a very nice lady of the old school, has agreed to provide them to you. She gave me etiquette lessons when I was twelve. It will cost you nothing."
"Really? Why would she do that?" asked Cynthia wondering if she really knew what etiquette entailed.
Sid smiled as he recalled how Mrs. Wilson had reacted when he had asked her if she would be willing to give lessons to a young woman. The grand old lady had told him how much she would love to do that. She explained how she was afraid that manners were becoming extinct like the dodo bird -- hunted down by radical feminists who hated men.
He answered, "She wants to pass her knowledge on to a young woman before that knowledge is lost for good."
"She would appreciate it if you would come over the next three Saturdays. I must warn you that she will expect you to arrive at nine in the morning and stay until late in the evening."
Deep in thought, Cynthia picked up a cake, put the whole thing in her mouth, chewed a few times, and then washed it down with her coffee. Watching her, Sid decided that she definitely needed to go to Mrs. Wilson. When she set her cup down, Sid noticed that it was empty. He asked, "Would you care for some more coffee?"
"Sure," she replied.
After going through the process of refilling her cup, Sid said, "The third thing that we have to work on is your self image. A new wardrobe and the etiquette lessons will be a tremendous help in that area, but you still need to become comfortable with who and what you are."
"Oh," said Cynthia in a very flat tone of voice. Her wild idea of turning herself into something that would be attractive to him had turned into a little more work than she had intended.