Chapter 2: Rachel

For the next week after she had fellated Connors in her own driveway, Lauren experienced the most vivid and horrible nightmares. The dream would always start in her kitchen with the children. She was serving a meal to the children who sat around the kitchen table. Connors was invariably seated at the head of the table where her husband should be. He was naked, and she was afraid that the children would see his erection under the table. Each time she came to the table with food, she would be drawn to Connors, and she would ask him if he wanted her to suck him off. The children did not know what the expression meant. Eventually, Connors would give her permission to go down on him. Then, while she was under the table, his penis in her mouth, her husband Chuck would come into the kitchen.

Sometimes in the dream she would come out from under the table and introduce Frank to Chuck, and Chuck would not notice that Frank was naked. Sometimes she would stay under the table, and tell the children to eat dinner in the dining room with their father. Once, in the dream, Chuck began to serve dinner to the children while she held Frank's penis in her mouth and swallowed his cum.

Lauren's only bulwark of sanity was the agreement that Frank would never again come to her house. He would meet her only at the school or in town. To her infinite relief he had also become a paragon of punctuality. He appeared only on the days he said he would be there. Sometimes they would meet for coffee at Peter's Place, and they would not have sex at all. Most importantly, he never appeared at her house, and Lauren never had to learn how she would greet him if he did.

For Lauren there was still no sense of ease in cheating on her husband. Adultery never became a routine. Simply walking the half mile from the school to Connors' house was a minor ordeal because she knew so many people on campus. Who might turn the corner as she walked up the steps to of his porch? Nor could she find emotional or libidinal equilibrium in their meetings. One day, sitting across the table from him sipping a latte, he was nothing more than a reasonably attractive doctor and professor of biology. Two days later he was an irresistible sex magnet; she would beg him to take her back to his house and fuck her on the floor.

And so, less than two weeks after the fiasco in her driveway Lauren found herself walking through a sudden summer downpour to Peter's Place at the edge of the campus, uncertain whether the warmth between her thighs would blossom into a desperate need once she saw Connors again.

Two minutes after she folded her umbrella and sat down beside him, she knew that today's meeting was one of desperate need.

"Did you drive today?" she asked, already plotting to get back to his house and have sex. She had an umbrella but they would look too cozy walking under it together.

"No," he answered. "Maybe we should plan on Saturday? How does it look for golf?"

He was alluding to Chuck's golf outings which served as the most convenient occasions for their weekend rendezvous.

"Today. Now! Let's go," she protested, quickly looking around to see who might overhear. "I can't get away this Saturday."

He was not moving.

"What about Sunday?" he countered. "Couldn't you get a 'headache' just before it was time to go to church?"

She had not thought about Sunday morning. All three of their children were in Sunday school. Chuck could take them to church if she were not well, but he might just suggest that they all stay home. Besides, the issue was not whether she would want him on Sunday: she wanted him now! She restrained herself from grabbing his arm and leading him out into the rain.

"Can you stay until six thirty tonight?" he asked. "That would give us half an hour at your office."

"Yes. Tonight," she answered instantly. She was due home early tonight, but she would make some excuse and have her assistant Cathy bring Charlie and Jillian home earlier. How could she wait that long? Her next thought was whether she could masturbate in one of the bathrooms back at the school, an uncertain proposition since the staff shared the bathroom with the children. My God, she thought, now I'm plotting to diddle myself in my own school building?

Before she cleared her mind of this frightening thought, a young woman pulled up a chair and joined them. She immediately knew who it was. She knew it was only a matter of time before she would meet Frank's cute new conquest.

"Lauren, this is Rachel Grossman."

Lauren fumbled for words, and eventually just said "Hello." As the conversation went on, she realized that it hardly mattered what she said because Rachel's attention was entirely on Frank.

"Rachel," he continued, obviously amused with himself. "This is Mrs. Bakersfield."

To Lauren's amazement, Frank announced that he had enlisted her, Lauren, to help Rachel with an English paper. It seemed that Rachel could not continue with Frank's graduate level biology seminars next fall unless she caught up on the undergraduate English requirement. Frank had promised that Lauren would help. Never mind that she had not corrected an English paper in nine years since she had moved to the children's school, nor that she had only taught in high school. Frank was asking her to tutor the student whom he had already set out to seduce.

This was absurd. Before Lauren could protest, however, Frank took her hand and pressed it between his. Her resistance wilted.

"So you'll help Rachel then? I can't tell you how much I appreciate it. I'll see you at six at the school?"

In a moment, he disappeared from the coffee shop out into the rain, leaving Lauren and Rachel together to arrange the details. Rachel seemed utterly at ease with the situation Frank had created. Lauren wondered if Rachel was already sleeping with Frank, and more disturbing, if Rachel already knew that Frank was planning on having both of them in a "threesome."

In any event, Rachel was a confident and perceptive young woman. She moved easily and engaged you in conversation with her sparkling brown eyes. She was cute and she obviously found Frank sexy, just as Lauren did herself.

Ten minutes later, having exchanged email addresses and having agreed to meet the next evening to review the first draft of Rachel's paper on Thomas Hardy, Lauren left the coffee shop and went back to the school.

Many of the children went home early because of the rain. They became restless when kept inside late in the day, and so many of the parents came by early. Lauren sent Charlie and Jillian home with Cathy, her assistant, as she sometimes did when there was paperwork to be taken care of late in the day. Her body burned with desire for Frank; and she could pay no attention to the encounter with Rachel or her new role as tutor to the pretty young thing who was his next prey.

The moment that Frank arrived, Lauren closed the door to her office and pulled down the roller blind. His arms enfolded her, the world disappeared, the ache between her legs was transformed into a hot, sharp pleasure. Her mouth moved more and more frantically against his, and her teeth nipped at his lips until he lifted her a few inches in the air and sat her down on her desk. Twice before he had taken her in this office and on this desk. She knew what to expect next. She raised the skirt of her dress to her waist and pulled off her underwear, expecting his mouth on her pussy at any moment.

Still, the kiss went on.

"Touch me," she begged. "Eat me, please, Frank."

He began to kiss her thighs and she lay back with the lips of her pussy thrust over the edge of the desk and her legs dangling towards the floor. He knelt between her legs, his hands stroking the backs of her calves and his shoulders holding her knees wide apart.

"Now, Frank. Please. Now. I beg you. Do it."

Still, his hands moved gently and slowly behind her calves. The heat between her thighs only increased. Each of her outer lips was now a fat roll of red flesh under a wet fuzz of light brown hair. Her inner lips had melted outwards in wide thin tongues and her clitoris stood out above them. His mouth came no closer to her pussy than the inside of her knees, but the heat of his breath tantalized her all the more.

"FRANK, don't do this to me! PLEASE!"

When he still did not touch her, she moved her right hand over her opening and began to stroke herself; but then he tool both of her wrists and was held them at her sides.

"I need to see how much you want it," he whispered. "Just think. You would do anything I want. Think of all the sweet things you'll do with Rachel."

She twisted and struggled. Just as she burst into tears of frustration, Connors released her hands and curled one of his fingers up the front wall of her vagina where he diddled the pulpy seed that released her juice. Reflexively, she pressed her hand over her mound again to quell the unbearably sensitive nerves, but it was too late. She needed release, and she grasped her opening and pubic bone with all the strength in her hand to control the tension. Her hips bucked, as if of their own will, and tears filled her eyes.

"Do you want me to go down on you?" he demanded.

"Please, Frank. I need it now!"

"If Rachel were here, I would have her eat you. I bet she's as good as I am."

Indignation and revulsion flashed across Lauren's face, but her expression morphed to pure pleasure when he covered her entire clitoris with his tongue. In only a few seconds this hot, steady, insistent pressure brought her to climax. Then he took her hands again, staying with her until her breathing returned to normal.

She held her eyes shut, afraid that he could see her complete surrender. Would she even notice the difference, she wondered, when Rachel's tongue had replaced Frank's?

Starting on Thursday, July 13, 2002, Connors' lab notebooks include almost daily entries for both Rachel and Lauren.

That evening, Rachel must have arrived at Connors' house within an hour of him leaving Lauren on the desk at the children's school. We know that he showered and changed his clothes in the interim. He wanted to minimize the effect of any pheromones generated by sex with Lauren on his subsequent seduction of Rachel. Connors already knew from the encounter in the coffee shop that both women could be ensnared at the same time. The properties of their pheromones did not cancel each other out, and now he wanted to test Rachel's recipe by itself.

The brew that he had synthesized for Rachel bore every sign of being exceptionally potent judging from the retrospective match to her DNA. Her ultimate fate was sealed before she knocked on his door that evening, and Frank knew it. Still, she might not have succumbed on the first visit had she not been so confident of her own lesbian orientation.

It's not that she had never been with a man. On the contrary, she had experienced vaginal intercourse with three different men. Her motives in these encounters had been a mixture of curiosity, pity and arrogance. Never had she felt a serious sexual attraction to a man. Nor had her body responded to them.

In fact, as she tells the story now, she did not realize that her own libidinal pull landed her at Connors' that evening. She knew she was infatuated with him, but she saw her "hero worship" as just another element of the game. The professor takes a special interest in her work and she is flattered. Of course, the professor might invite her to his place expressly to get in her pants. She knew how the world worked; but, unless he simply raped her, which she rightly did not expect to happen, she saw no reason she could not wrap him around her little finger and escape unscathed as she had done so many times before. She expected to put a serious dent in his ego, if not break his heart as had happened with one of those men who had preceded him in her favors.

She was, to mix gender metaphors, far too cocky.

They sat in his front room and drank sherry. Have some Madeira, my dear. If nothing else, Connors proved that his peptide confection would vanquish the most outrageous clichés of seduction.

"How old are you, Rachel?"

"Twenty."

She knew the game was afoot and she relished it.

"And what should I assume about your attitude towards fraternization between faculty and students?"

"That's a long winded way of saying that you think I'm hot, isn't it?"

"I figure that a longer sentence gives you time to think. Perhaps you would need time to put down your glass before you run out the door in the event you're getting nervous."

"Well, evidently I'm not. In fact, I'll have another glass of sherry if you're offering."

"Yes, of course. I want to get to know you. I want to know all about you, actually."

Rachel raised an eyebrow, amused and bemused by his arrogance.

She could have waited for him to take her glass, but she chose to rise and stand next to him as he poured the sherry, wanting to be close enough for him to melt in the aura of her young body. The four inch gap between the bottom of her tee shirt and the waist of her jeans revealed enough of her taunt abdomen to serve the purpose. The curve of her breasts was evident through the thin fabric.

When, instead of pouring the wine, he bent slightly to kiss her, she turned her face upwards and waited for him to do something mad and passionate that he would immediately regret. Men, in Rachel's experience, were so predictable.

Instead, he teased her, touching his lips to hers with only the lightest pressure until she had wrapped her arms around him and lost herself in the embrace.

"You have a certain self-confidence," he breathed in her ear. "I will be fascinated to see how you handle yourself. You know that Lauren and I are lovers?"

Rachel answered only by raising her lips to his. He put down the sherry bottle and took the glass from her hand. It was the tip of her tongue, not his, that ventured out on a mission of exploration. Her arms pulled him close, and her hands squeezed his buns. She remembered musing on how men could be so unsexy as to put a wallet in their back pocket.

It was Connors, not Rachel, who eventually broke the kiss, and he poured out the refill that she had requested and forgotten. She took it and resumed her seat in his rocking chair.

"You don't seem the least bit nervous," he said at last.

At this point, Rachel knew that there was something different about Connors. She was responding to him. She found him sexy, and she was becoming aroused. She was not sloppy wet as she might ultimately get with a girl, and her nipples were still well behaved beneath her tee shirt, but there was clearly something happening within her; and it had never happened before with a man.

Her curiosity kicked in.

"If you're not nervous," he said, "then I'll invite you to try another kiss -- but, first, take your time with the sherry."

Rachel accepted his invitation to play a second round, presumably for higher stakes.

She watched him watch her. Her tongue moved slowly across her lips, and she could feel the slightest sting of the alcohol twinned with the coolness of its evaporation. She had never noticed it before and now she enjoyed it.

She sipped and waited, watched and sipped. She almost glanced at her watch to see how long their contest had run, but she chose to fix her gaze on him. He was confident and unhurried. When her glass was empty, she reached down, placed it on the floor beside her chair, and then, grasping the hem of her tee shirt, she pulled it over her head. She took off her watch and noted that she had been with him for about forty minutes. She let him look at her breasts while she pulled a half dozen delicate silver bracelets off her wrists and placed them on the floor by the glass and her watch.

Her breasts were perfect, symmetric circles of firm flesh and dark pink nipples. They were still well behaved. She slipped the sandals off her feet by pressing her heels together and then stood up and removed her jeans and panties. Folding herself gracefully back into the rocking chair, her slender legs crossed at the thigh, she showed not the least hint of self-consciousness. She settled in to watch him squirm with desire.

Connors rose and stood directly in front of her. Her gaze strayed to the bulge in his pants and suddenly her head began to swim. She thought that perhaps she had drunk too much sherry but realized that alcohol had never affected her in this way. The real cause of her disorientation was the proximity of the pheromone lure flooding her olfactory equipment. Her nipples hardened and blood began to engorge her sex, but she could not yet identify these changes consciously. Rather, there was a diffuse but compelling sense of sexual desire.

Whatever the cause of her confusion, Rachel knew that she had lost control of the game, and she immediately decided that she needed to get out. She had only one rule when it came to sexual games with men: Stay in control.

She started to reconnoiter the room to see where her clothes lay. She would have to push past him to get her jeans and tee shirt from the spot where she dropped them in the middle of the room. Would he try to stop her?

He stepped even closer to her, grabbed the back of the rocking chair and pulled it forward. She was trapped in the chair. Her face was now less than twelve inches away from his crotch and its surprising allure. The scent wafted from the hair on his chest and under his upraised arms. She uncrossed her legs and stiffened in anticipation and fear, but a strangely powerful arousal also welled up inside her. Her hands gripped the arms of the wooden rocker.

"Do you want me to show you how to do this?" he asked.

Part of her wanted to "do this" -- to open his belt and take him in her mouth, but Rachel still registered shock at his words -- at his guess that she had no experience of oral sex with a man. He knew quite a bit about her, of course, having read and copied her medical history from her file at the university health services.

Sexually active, never used contraceptives. Homosexual orientation.

"You've never done this with a man have you?"

She recognized her own sexual desire now, and she knew that what she wanted was only a few inches away and inside his pants; but he held too much control, and so, more than anything she wanted to escape.

She was trapped in the chair and terribly frightened. Each time that she had teased a man before, she had controlled every step, consciously stoking his desire while feeling none of her own. She looked up at him and saw that the roles were now reversed. He had been playing with her, and now she wanted him.

No, she thought, not with a man. I won't give up control to a man. Again, she considered whether she might still retrieve her clothes and beat an ungainly retreat. She did not relish the embarrassment of fleeing like a frightened teenager who had gone too far in a game with an older man.

He reached forward with his left hand and stroked her soft brown hair while his right hand pulled the back of the rocking chair, and hence her face, even closer to his crotch. She wanted him in her mouth. This hot, sticky organ that had always seemed so comical and tame now exerted a commanding attraction. Then his hand descended to her nipple whose point he tugged gently between his thumb and forefinger.

"It's hard already and I've barely touched you. You look scared now," he said. She could not muster the bravura to deny that she was. "Perhaps we're taking things a little too quickly."

Still stroking her hair and looking steadily into her eyes, he asked, "Perhaps you'd like to get dressed and we can try again? I intend to enjoy you for a long while, and I don't want to spoil things."

He did not wait for her reply. He gathered up her clothes and then took her hand, signaling her to rise from the rocking chair.

"Hold out your arms."

He held the tee shirt so that she could slide her arms into the holes, and then he gently eased the fabric down her sides.

"Oh," Rachel moaned softly as his hands brushed against her. Her every nerve-ending was primed and the brain's pathways to sexual arousal were exquisitely open to the stimulus of touch.

Then, Connors lowered himself to one knee and held her panties at her feet for her to step into. She steadied herself with both hands on his shoulders as she placed one foot and then the other into the openings. Her knees began to buckle in response to the touch of his hands moving slowing and lightly up the length of her legs. By the time he stood up again and smoothed the fabric into place over her hips and buttocks, she needed both arms around his neck for support.

Rachel felt her mouth melt into his, and she closed her eyes to soak in the taste and smell of this amazing man. His strong arms caressed her shoulders and back, and she felt herself pressing her mound, hot and engorged, into the hard muscles of his thigh. She relished the sensation of her bare thighs squeezing his body. Her tongue moved deeper into his mouth and then accepted his reciprocal explorations.

Bliss and oblivion. She could go on kissing him forever.

Slowly, however, he began to disengage from the kiss, relaxing his close embrace and raising his head so that her lips and tongue got less and less of his mouth.

Finally, when he spoke, she was kissing the base of his neck, seeking out the heat of his blood which passed in veins and arteries near the surface in the soft hollow.

"Don't forget your jeans," he admonished.

Rachel's mouth twisted into a frown that betrayed her disappointment. Taking her cue, she relaxed her arms from around his neck and let their bodies move a few inches apart. She could not truly recall the fright she had experienced only a few minutes earlier with her loss of control. She was embarrassed, yes, but what was there to be afraid of?

Still, she read the smile of triumph across his face, and suddenly she blushed to be standing in her panties within his reach. Her nakedness, initially her ploy to tease and entice him, was now revealed as vulnerability. She was in retreat and still quite exposed.

Somehow, she pulled on her jeans, reassembled her watch and bracelets, and made her way out to the street. It had grown dark and cool. She realized that the night air had doused her sex flush.

That next morning, Friday, Rachel stumbled distractedly through her three hour lab in stereochemistry. For all the concentration she brought to the task, she might just as well have gone back to her dorm and gone to sleep.

The prior evening with Connors resembled a dream now -- and a very weird dream at that. Never, even a dream, would she have imagined that the touch of a man's fingertips along her legs could leave her too weak stand. Never could she imagine losing control to a man. Nor could she have imagined the urgent desire to kneel, and unzip him, to reach into his pants and... No, it was inconceivable now in the light of day.

All through the morning lab and then into the afternoon Rachel replayed the odd experience in her mind. Was Connors just being chivalrous in helping her back into her clothes and assisting her retreat? Did he realize how completely she would have given in had he pressed the attack? What motive did he have for recruiting Lauren to help her? Rachel thoughts shifted with foreboding to the impending session with Lauren to work on her paper that evening.

When Connors had first mentioned Lauren, Rachel did not guess that he might be having an affair with her. Even if he proved to be lecherous and not chivalrous, why would he introduce her to his lover? Didn't men try to hide one lover from another?

Rachel skipped dinner. Her stomach was too unsettled in anticipation of what would develop that evening. By the pricking of my thumbs, something kinky this way comes.

Promptly at 7:30, a dark green Plymouth Voyager pulled up near Rachel's dorm. Chuck Bakersfield, Lauren's husband, was there to drive her to their house where she and Lauren would work on the paper while Chuck took care of the kids and put them to bed.

Once in the passenger seat, all of Rachel's attention was on Chuck. He was strikingly handsome and athletic, muscles rippling in his arms and shoulders. He smiled with an easy, genuine warmth exposing white, even teeth that matched Lauren's. It took only a moment to conclude that Lauren and Chuck were the perfect couple.

Why was Lauren having an affair with Connors when she was married to this perfect, and perfectly charming, hunk? And why was she, Rachel, attracted to Frank but not in the least attracted to Chuck?

Rachel had taken an extra moment to appraise each of the men she passed on campus that day, wondering whether they would turn her on. Would she be drawn to every crotch she passed now that she had coveted Connors from less than six inches away? Maybe it would only be taller, more distinguished types like her professor. Or maybe it was only Connors himself that got her hot.

Rachel's other preoccupation during this disconcerting day was to reconfirm her own long-standing attraction to women. She took reassurance from the fact that Terri, the tall dark-haired grad student at the other end of her chemistry lab bench was just as hot today as she was last week; and Rachel's eye for female beauty, wherever she encountered it on campus, seemed just as acute as ever.

When they got to the Bakersfield house, Chuck disappeared.

Rachel and Lauren sat down at the dining room table to work on the paper. At first Rachel was distracted by the kids. Little Jillian kept poking her head round to see what Mom was up to -- but then Chuck herded the trio upstairs. Once Rachel and Lauren were alone, they set to work on the paper, but Lauren was obviously distracted. She had made good notes on Rachel's draft, but her oral comments were hardly helpful at all.

Lauren, as she herself recalls, was even more troubled by this first meeting than was Rachel, and understandably so. Connors intended to proceed with his "threesome," and he had assigned Lauren the task making the arrangements. Worst of all, Lauren knew that she would go along with whatever Connors arranged: she could not afford another incident, whether in front of Chuck or her children, in which her desire for Connors would overwhelm and betray her. As she sat with Rachel at the dining room table, Lauren could barely think and her poor tutoring efforts left no doubt of her distraction.

Finally, seeing that the tutoring was strained and useless, Rachel gave up on Thomas Hardy for the evening.

"How do you know Professor Connors?" she asked.

"Oh, just from around campus," answered Lauren.

"He says that you and he are lovers."

The two women looked directly at each other. Rachel was fearless and determined to learn what was going on. When Lauren did not answer, Rachel pressed her.

"Why did he set us up together?"

"He's rather intense sometimes. Sometimes it takes a while to... like, to get in tune with him."

"For instance?"

Lauren fidgeted with one of the place mats on the dining table.

Rachel kept her voice down, but she spoke more emphatically. "You two are lovers, aren't you?"

This time Lauren nodded. She glanced towards the hall. Chuck and the children were still upstairs. He shouldn't come down again until around nine when it would be time for him to drive Rachel back to her dorm.

"Frank says you're a great student. Tremendous potential. He's really taken a special interest in you."

"You don't say? Do you know I went to his place on Thursday night. He served me sherry and hit on me."

Rachel studied Lauren's face for a reaction, but Lauren continued as if she had been talking about the weather.

"Rachel, Dr. Connors has asked me to speak to you about some things that would really help you with your studies. There's so much he'd like to do to help you out. I mean so that you could take every advantage of the program. Especially in the fall. You'll be a sophomore, right?"

"Yeah?" Rachel responded guardedly. Yeah, right. He's dying to help me.

"Well, just two things for the moment. First, he's hoping you might dress more professionally for classes. He's asked me to help you shop for some suits. A tailored look."

"And?"

"And he was thinking you and he could have special sessions on Saturday mornings. He was hoping... he said I should tell you to come at nine thirty. Generally, I mean not every Saturday, but generally... I mean unless he tells you not to come on a given Saturday."

Rachel was incredulous. The nerve of this guy. The astounding nerve. Pushing back the instinct to explode, Rachel decided that light sarcasm would be more effective. Why try to shoot to messenger, the obviously confounded Lauren, when it was Connors that she wanted to castrate right now?

"Tell Dr. Connors that I appreciate his kind offer, and that I'll tell him exactly what I think of it when I next see him."

"Oh, no," Lauren responded earnestly. "He said I have to make the arrangements with you tonight. I have to get you to agree tonight."