Chapter 1: The Lover

My mother, Onyx, and her wife, Gladys, have moved a great deal. She is a psychologist, with a research interest In expanding human potential, strongly influenced by the work of Abraham Maslow. Jane is a social worker, qualified as a psychotherapist but immensely able to work social systems and bureaucracies work. Recently, she received a large “genius grant” that included a house in a school district that encouraged experimentation. Mom trusts me to manage my own life while they travel. Through friends in the courts, they’ve gotten me a good deal of autonomy, very close to formal emancipation. I’m 14-and-a-half, like many of my classmates.

If you haven’t yet picked up that Mom doesn’t quite march in lockstep with convention, you may not be ready to keep reading. She named me Merlin. Mom isn’t sure if there is real magic and paranormal capability, but she figured that naming me for one of the greatest magicians ever known might favor things in that direction. While I’m not considered one of the Beautiful People around school, I don’t scare people. 5’9”, 160, decently muscled for an intramural athlete, red hair, blue eyes.

Living with them, however, I hadn’t had much contact with peers, and certainly no sex. They didn’t mind me reading anything in their professional library, which had a good deal on sexuality. They had some videos that they really used for research, and, I learned later, some lesbian, bi, and gay flicks for personal enjoyment. Eventually, I had access to these, but they never talked about it.

Technically, I had been homeschooled, but that included quite a bit of work in research labs and universities. They, and eventually specialists they brought in, gave me extensive skills in library and database organization, assessment of plausibility of documents, and research writing. In many ways, I was being prepared not just for high school, but for doctoral studies.

My education included the physical and psychological. I worked out in an experimental martial arts program, with elements of both krav maga and aikido. If need be, I could damage or kill, but I could also immobilize with little harm. In addition, I go to some fairly unstructured dance classes, just to help with flexibility and agility. You meet girls that way. They tend to assume you’re gay and don’t worry about revealing things, but, when they find out you like girls, tend to be rather open.

In part preparing me for paranormal and magical talents if they ever developed, I went through increasingly challenging training in mental discipline. Some, without the physical brutality, might have come from the military Survival, Evasion, Resistance, and Escape (SERE) curriculum, which was focused on resisting “brainwashing” to elicit false confessions. As Mom put it, “School peer pressure will bounce off you about like snowballs skittering off red-hot steel.”

Duck? Swan? As long as we’re in the water

One evening, Mom asked me to sit down. “Coffee? I know you’re still getting the habit, but it’s a lovely lubricant of discussion. Offering coffee always helps convey you aren’t in trouble.” I nodded. We had a wonderful old-style espresso machine, which reminded me of a 19th century steam locomotive.

Mom, sadly, would never win any beauty contests. She wouldn’t be a sexual therapist. She was, however, a magnificent speaker, a careful listener, and a fine facilitator of others’ interactions. “Merlin, you make me feel like the mother duck that hatched a swan. For all my professional training, I’m not always sure about the best path for you. Happily, we stopped fighting and made the whole thing collaborative. Judge Nelson, in the Family Court, and I are content that you can take on a lot more adult responsibility. It turns out that there are precedents to do large chunks of what usually has to be full emancipation.

“So, as long as you have the reflexes and can pass the tests, you can have a driver’s license. Child Protective Services won’t freak out if you’re home alone. While I’m happy to see you, I’m setting up an apartment for you. In my home office, with its waiting room and professional office for me, we will have a shared library and conference room, and you’ll have an office. I trust you to meet with friends. Yes, when you feel ready, you may go to bed with them, with all the responsibilities involved. Happily, the new vaccine protects against all significant sexually transmitted diseases.

“At school, Miss Visser, I know, is your key mentor. To be precise, it’s Dr. Visser. I know her professionally as well, and we’re friendly. She agrees that we can do more through less formal channels. Even if we go formally to homeschooling, she will be involved.

“She also introduced me to another mother with whom she thinks we have some things in common, Ada Russo. Do you know her daughter, Annamarie?”

That surprised me. “Annamarie either doesn’t notice me or is hostile. She is, for some value of the word, popular. That value includes, I think, being one of the most sexually adventurous and provocative girls. Of course, I don’t know how much is show and how much is real.”

“Just have more of an open mind when you interact.”

“Interesting. My guess is that she does a lot of posturing in school. If I see her outside, it’s anyone’s guess.”

Annamarie on defense

I won’t quite say that the lunch table looked like that of the Last Supper, but rather than a Messiah, Annamarie Russo held court at the lunch table, apparently having gone to lunch straight from physical education. She wore a black leather jacket over gym shorts, the jacket dropping to mid-thigh, and some sort of soft, high, boots set off her warm ivory skin. It violated the dress code, but Annamarie managed to ignore may rules.

A couple of cheerleaders were in attendance. I suppose they were prettier but did not approach her sexual magnetism. Her admirers were mostly athletes, with a scattering of rich kids. As I passed, I gave her a friendly little hand salute. “Ooh, ooh!” Some of the jocks chortled. “Shouldn’t you give her a bow, punk?”

I looked at them, very calmly. “No, I don’t see why I should. I acknowledged her. Actually, I look forward to her in history class, where she often has something to say, as opposed to you.”

She looked at me, obviously after getting the attention of her posse. “Was there a reason, faggot, that I should pay any attention to you?”

Remembering what Mom had said, I stayed calm, but in no way was I intimidated. “Basic courtesy, as I gave you, should be enough of a reason. But if you want to interact in that manner, slut, why should I be concerned with you?”

A couple of athletes jumped up, defensively. “You son of a bitch.”

At first, I said nothing, but grounded, centered, and took a nonobvious combat stance. Looking at both with a mixture of calm and amusement, I observed, “Dogs are correctly the sons of bitches, and I have known some very honorable examples of both. Gentlemen, I don’t know if you read Gordon Dickson, or indeed if you read at all, but it was observed that one of his characters was not a dog, but a wolf. A wolf only loses one fight. His last.”

They rushed me. I pivoted to face the leader, letting him slam against a raised forearm as I briefly kicked his ankle. He appeared to bounce off me, onto the floor. The second took a swing, but I caught his arm and spun him across my hip. He also went down hard. Both were out of breath but not really injured. “Who’s next?” No response to my query.

Behind the provocative makeup, Annamarie’s eyes turned thoughtful at that. Not wearing a hat to tip, I touched my brow and went on his way to my classes. He happily had dramatics after lunch, which usually had enough activity to let him both digest and learn.

[Annamarie: I’m feeling guilty. He did nothing to offend me until my posse and I attacked him. To be honest with myself, I admire his confidence. From class, I know he’s smart. For that matter, he’s not bad looking.

[Using my telempathy, I offered apologetic thoughts, and a bit of appreciation]

As class wrapped up, Dr. Wisser called to me. “Merlin. stop by my office for a couple of minutes. No problem.” She had an office as chair of the Department of Social Studies, a role that she filled both for the middle and high schools. Liza Wisser had long been a mentor of mine, both in the specific subject, but also in teaching me much of how to study and write on my own. As I entered, she gestured for me to close the door.

I knew that Dr. Wisser knew that I admired her physically as well as intellectually. In my own mind, I thought of her either formally, as an intellectual giant, or very informally and intimately. Over time, I had learned that what I generally thought was her German ancestry was more specifically Bavarian. She had a dark complexion, with jet-black, shoulder-length hair. Her deep brown eyes were intense with bolder makeup than other teachers.

She was sufficiently popular that no one said anything about her routine flirting with a couple of male teachers, which was rather overt. Subtler, however, was that she would give me glimpses of legs and lingerie. She routinely wore sheer black hose, and her blouse and skirt sometimes gave glimpses of what appeared to be a form-fitting corset.

Gesturing me to a chair, she sat down in her own, and a smile and no comment, crossed her legs, letting her skirt rise interestingly. No words were exchanged, but we made one another feel warmed. She knew I was admiring her and didn’t object.

“You know that I have spies everywhere.” We both laughed. “You had, I believe, what might be called an exchange of insults earlier with Miss Russo.”

“Your sources are indubitable.”

“Indeed. Remember, though, that I give deeper meaning to the basics. In this case, am I correct that you have read Henry Kissinger on negotiating styles? In particular, the ideological-charismatic?”

“That’s the style that he illustrated with Sukarno of Indonesia. The leader using it has to be perceived, by his domestic base, as defiant to the dominant culture, usually the West. Once his base sees him as powerful and incapable of being intimidated, he then is free to bargain on a wide range of topics.”

“You remember correctly. Apply it to Miss Russo. Annamarie is a social leader, seen by her followers as defiant but thoroughly in control. Play it right, interact with her out of sight, and you may be pleasantly surprised. I should add that while you already are aware, from honors history, that she’s smart, you may find that her intellect is much more powerful than she lets most people know.

“You know that I am at least an informal consultant to your mother. You don’t know that Annamarie’s mother is comparably powerful, in a different way. I also talk to her. It may well be that some great synergy is possible.

“Apropos of nothing much, Annamarie told me that she would be at the town library branch, next to the school, doing some independent study.” I started to get up. “Merlin, I’ll deny I said this, but thank you for not, in a negative way, acting your age. I do notice you admiring me physically, but it’s not crude as it is from many of your classmates.” She stood, raising her skirt to straighten a perfectly straight stocking. “Don’t do it to excess, but, like right now, I can be appreciative. Enjoy the view, but for now, it’s absolutely look but don’t touch. I do hope to find some other females who are appropriate for you to touch. It’s not that I’m anti-sex, but just know it can interfere with lines of authority.

“I suspect that you might have some interesting contacts if you stop at the library on the way home. Remember, there are some private study areas.”

The first private meeting

Our town library had some study carrels and small group work areas rather like a college library. Following my mentor’s suggestion, I found Annamarie in the most hidden of the study rooms. She had several piles of books and was working with assorted notes. She had changed back to an outfit she liked, a sweater dress in a ribbed off-white stretch fabric that flattered her curves, with a hem a good deal shorter than in school.

While her figure wasn’t quite as dramatic as Dr. Wisser’s, she had a striking hourglass for a 14-year-old. It was a safe assumption that she had more growth and would be striking. As she read, her legs were crossed, showing off a substantial amount of leg in sheer black hose, and then fairly high-heeled knee boots that I suspected were comfortable for walking.

She looked up. Touching her thigh, she lightly ran her fingers over it, making no effort to pull down her hem. “Oh, relax. I have to admit something. I intimidate a lot of boys, but not you. Deep down, I appreciate that. Miss Wisser, who is my confidante and mentor, confirmed that you have such substance, and you will be discreet. I have an image to maintain, but don’t worry about it. There’s no one to see us. In fact...” She rose, went to the door, and locked it.
[Annamarie: Using the telempathic ability, I transmitted my sincerity and my desire for him to trust me. I cannot lie in telempathy, a message that I also transmitted.]

“Yes, I have a key, at least semi-legally. For now, if you wonder how I have it, remember that all animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others. I trust you have read Orwell? The other day, when I called you a faggot, my admirers loved it -- I was telling off a nerd. When you came back and called me a slut, in a calm way, I kind of respected you.”

“Annamarie, Dr. Wisser and I talk a lot, apparently as you do. I mentioned what you sneered earlier. She said that there’s a whole side of you that few see, and I’d like it - that you’re really smart in social sciences. She suggested that you were studying some things on your own.

I glanced at her pile of books. “I’m impressed with some of what you have there. Given what I’ve heard of the library board, I’m even surprised they have some of that. Quite a few people think Freud gets too sexy. Not sure exactly what you’re after, other than an assortment of things in the social sciences.”

Annamarie pushed back from the table, and pulled her feet under the table, drawing her skirt taut. It began to rise up her full, shapely thighs. “Again, I’ll disavow saying this, and this is hard enough to speak to anyone.

I couldn’t avoid glancing appreciatively at her legs, but then guiltily looked away. “Merlin! Why the hell are you looking away from me? I’m not posing--yet--but I know what is being shown. I like to be admired. Feel free to do so. In a few minutes, I’ll be deliberately showing you more.”

[Merlin: it was interesting that while we were alone, her vocabulary became even more elegant. I had noticed some of that in our honors class.]

“Merlin, I am actually interested in the academic study of sex, but it’s so difficult to get some of the books that are mentioned a lot. I’d even like to find someone with whom I just could discuss them.”

“Oh, yeah? No, I’m not making smart cracks. I really do respect anyone who goes off and studies on their own. Maybe I could find some resources.”

[Annamarie: Telempathically, I tried to convince him that I was quite open to private intimacy. That wasn’t enough, I realized. I needed to send physical messages.]

Annamarie licked her lips, ran her fingers in her hair, and let her features assume a sultry expression. “I’d really, really like to meet with someone like that. Miss Wisser did suggest that I discuss that with you. She also passed on a message for you to be honest with me. I want to do something to clear the air between us privately. At any point, you can say no. In any event, we can’t take a risk to do too much in the library.” She came close, looked me in the eye, put her arms around me, brought her mouth to mine, and gave me a scorching kiss with lots of tongue. She tasted of both pleasant spice and of exciting woman.

Her eyes went wide when I reciprocated, although my knowledge of the act was from reading rather than experience. “Didn’t know you had that in you, Merlin.” At first, I felt oncoming rejection when she gripped my arms as they hugged her. When she moved my hands onto her buttocks, I wasn’t complaining, but I was puzzled.

“Nerds study sex all the time and have information in reserve.”

“I saw that movie, too.”

“Annamarie, I’m going to make you a proposition. No, not that kind. When we’re alone, can we agree to keep being honest with each other?”

She lifted my hand, put one of my fingers into her mouth, and did a fine impression of fellatio on it. “I agree.

“Let me clear the air on something else. Don’t worry about getting to first or third base with me. I have every intention of having full sex with you in every hole that I have. It’s just that the library isn’t the place to do it.

When I heard that, I had to put my hand on the table, for a bit of stability. She had just challenged, but admittedly reassured, a trigger of my fears. I had grown up afraid of taking inappropriate liberties with a woman.

“I’m perfectly willing to do more when we have some privacy, but I’m also not eager to fumble around in a car when we can be comfortable in bed. For now, let’s talk.”

[Annamarie: I was, I hoped, transmitting lust.]

“Am I explicit enough?”

“Yes, Annamarie. I hope I’m not being set up, but otherwise, I think of that line from Casablanca, ‘Louie, I think this is going to be the start of a beautiful friendship.’”

I propose a plan

While Annamarie had a reputation as manipulative, I was going to trust the recommendations, at least in private. “Annamarie, did you know that my mom is a psychologist, who teaches various seminars?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“She always has let me have the run of her library. What would you think if I brought out a pile that had Freud’s Three Essays on the Theory of Sexuality, Karpman’s The Sexual Offender and His Offenses, the Kinsey Reports, Kraft-Ebbing’s Psychopathia Sexualis, Ford & Beach Patterns of Sexual Behavior, and some more stuff like that?”

“She isn’t around much, but I guess that’s not the worst thing in the world. I often have the house to myself. Now, in the being honest mold, I know a lot about the academic view of sexuality. I’m a virgin, but I masturbate a lot.”

“Honey, if you have me over, I’ll bring dinner. I’d enjoy studying with you, and, hell, maybe Wisser is right and we would have some interests. We can probably, at the least, have some masturbation fun.