Chapter 4: Again, Bea’s Bedroom

A few months had passed, and Paul was sitting at Bea’s computer, about to write.

“Paul, today you’re going to write a letter to Ms. Carpenter. You’re going to ask her for a job writing porn stories. Then you’re going to provide a sample, a couple of paragraphs of lusty text, and then you’re going to end the letter politely. Got it?”

Paul chuckled and put his huge hands on her pink-and-white keyboard.

Dear Ms. Carpenter,

For some time now, I have been wanting to write porn stories for you magazine. My girlfriend inpire me to be sexy and epxress myself. Here is a sample.

Bea walked out of the bathroom with a towel only wrapped around her head like a turbine. The rest of her body was still wetted from her shower. I fetched the hair dryer and pointed it to her pussy. She loved the warm air drying her other hair.

Then I went to check and her hairs were dry, but just below she was wet! “Did I do it wrong?” I asked her.

“No, baby, it’s perfect. Put the thing down. My nipples are cold and now they stiffer. Play with them!”

This is my writing for you Ms. Carpenter. I hope you like it and will give me job. Thank you.

Paul Dawes

“Paul, this is great. Good job. Let me sit down and double space this document, then print it out so we can go over it line by line. There’s some missing or wrong words, and I know you will spot them when you read from the printed version.

“When we finish the editing, we can print out a clean copy for Ms. Carpenter.”

“That’s good. Wait, what?”

“I’m teasing you. I would never get you in trouble with a teacher, no matter how hot she is for your body.”

“Bea...”

“Oh, you’re fine. I’m not good at sharing. You know that.”

They were interrupted by a loud thump, and then Lynn called out for help. The two of them went across the hall to the master. They found Lynn beside the bed, sitting on her feet and holding Dale’s head in her lap with the rest of his body sprawled out on the floor in front of her.

“He tried to get out of bed, and I managed to keep his head from hitting the floor. Dale, this is your daughter’s boyfriend, Paul Dawes.”

“Her boyfriend is a ni...?”

Lynn clapped her hand over her idiot husband’s mouth.

“Do you WANT to die? This nice young black man is going to help me lift your useless body back into bed, and you are going to be polite to him, aren’t you?”

She took her hand off, and he muttered, “Sorry.”

Once he was back in bed and all arranged, Lynn glared at him.

“Thank you, Paul.”

“Mom, we have more English to do; can Paul stay for dinner?”

“English? Is that what you’re calling it now? Sure, he can stay; it will be, let’s see, 90 minutes from now.”

Bea ignored her mother’s jibe and they returned to her bedroom.

When they finished with his letter, Bea’s red pen had marked issues on almost every line. He held the page at arm’s length, with a grim expression on his face.

“I’m just no good at this, Bea.”

“Oh, no, you don’t. Just stop. You didn’t play football very well when you started, right? Don’t they require you to watch films and point out things so you do better each time? You are just getting started with writing ‘on the spot.’

“There’s so much in this that’s great. Out of nowhere, you painted a believable and erotic scene in just a couple of paragraphs. It was not just, ‘He jumped on her and pushed in and out.’

“Very few writers can get away with editing their own work. Whatever you see out there, like fiction books or newspaper articles, has gone through editors, maybe several times, before they are released to the world.

“Only vain politicians and tycoons blurt things out at rallies or post on the internet without editing, and you know how that works out.

“You had a great idea here, and after editing it, it’s going to leave a great impression. I’d like to show Pam and Mom the edited version, and I promise you they will like it. Will you trust me?”

“Bea, I always trust you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Everyday, I recognize and respect that. Just don’t show it to Ms. Carpenter.”

“OK, I’m going to edit and print a paper copy of the final version. We can show it to them at dinner and ask them, ‘Hot or not.’ I promise you’ll like their answers.

“While I’m using the printer, I expect you to get naked. We have lots of time for orgasms, alright?”