Chapter 1

Wednesday – a week and a half after the events of Brothel Night

Zack’s eyes tracked Rebekah as she returned to the living room. She wore her white school blouse unbuttoned and tied off just below her large round breasts, above her cute ‘innie’ belly button. A sheer light blue thong had replaced her uniform’s pleated green skirt. Rebekah’s rich chestnut hair was gathered behind her head in a silver hair clip, allowing him to appreciate her neck and diamond stud earrings. The familiar silver chain with its Star of David sat atop her cleavage.

They had left Saint-U late in the afternoon in her older model BMW sedan driving the 15 miles to her home at a rapid clip as they talked about school and touched on a few items of common gossip. Ignoring the auto-drive assist, she drove with more confidence than any sixteen-year-old driver that he knew. She handled the car like she was in combat, aggressive, and in full control. After a quick tour of her modest modern home, she led him back to the living room. Four bedrooms, a modern kitchen, a formal dining room that could seat a dozen, a home office, and a spacious open-plan living room that looked out on the backyard patio and pool.

Neither of her parents was home to chaperone the start of their sex date. Though he guessed her parents would watch the video highlights that Rebekah, as the host, would edit and post to the private sex date group web page. Zack was in his new friend’s hands this afternoon and decided to sit back on the couch and follow her lead.

Rebekah went to the kitchen and returned with two glasses and an open bottle of wine. She set the wine glasses and bottle on a low coffee table in front of him. He watched her chest as she leaned down to fill the wine glasses, catching a glimpse of a blue bra underneath. She handed one to Zack and took the other. Rebekah sat on the couch next to him, curling a leg underneath her. “To you Zack, welcome to my home,” she said in her sexy lightly accented English. They drank.

He held his glass close to his chest while he watched Rebekah get comfortable on the couch. Zack organized his thoughts waiting for her to speak as they sat looking out through the closed sliding glass doors into the backyard garden and the peanut-shaped swimming pool.

The living room was tastefully decorated with a few family photographs and art from The Levant; old Greek vases, drinking ware, pieces of statuary, and the like. But it was the painting on the opposite wall that he was interested in. Hung near the fireplace in a heavy dark wood frame, was a medium-sized oil on canvas painting that he couldn’t stop looking at. The young woman in the painting appeared to be looking right at Zack. The more he looked the more he appreciated the fine quality of the painting. The woman had a full head of dark chestnut hair and had a remarkable resemblance to the girl sitting next to him.

She was young and beautiful, and she sat comfortably in a red armchair, her left arm resting in her lap. The front of her black dress was open, exposing two beautiful large pink-tipped breasts. Behind her the flame from a single oil lamp cast light on her pale skin. Zack’s eyes were naturally drawn to her large pale breasts. A beautiful piece of art that could easily grace the wall of any major gallery in Europe.

Who was she, he thought as he looked at Rebekah then back at the painting, the resemblance remarkable.

This afternoon his focus was on the beautiful sixteen-year-old sitting next to him.

Rebekah read his mind, “She’s my great-grandmother, on my dad’s side. Ruth was from Breslau (Wroclaw), Germany. She and a sister fled to Paris then made her way to Palestine before the war started.”

Zack nodded his head. Having lived in Berlin he had learned a lot about the history of the Holocaust. Ruth was lucky to have gotten out. But the painting.

“Where did the painting come from?” he asked, curious.

“According to my grandparents. Ruth and her sister led a bohemian lifestyle on the left bank, working in cafes and nightclubs, they modeled for any artist who asked and would pay. The men paid more if the girls were willing to take off their clothes. Ruth and Ester, the sisters, were desperate to raise money to leave France. Their parents were still in Germany and not able to help or escape themselves.”

Zack had an idea of the sorts of things two pretty girls could do in a big city like Paris to earn money quickly.

Rebekah was looking at him. “I know what you are thinking. Grandma Ruth even in 1938 was very progressive a socialist who was also a passionate Zionist.” Rebekah said looking at the painting. “That painting was never sold. After the war, the artist gifted the painting and one of Ester to her. This is a copy.” She said. “She never hid the painting from her family and said it represented a small but important part of her life.”

He knew there was a lot more to the story. “Did she live a long life?” he asked.

“Yes, she lived to be 94. I never got a chance to meet her, but she is a hero of mine. Ruth helped smuggle Jewish refugees from Europe to Palestine after the war ended. That’s how she met Benjamine Abrams, my great grandfather he was former Royal Navy Officer and a Zionist too.”

He didn’t really know what to say. It was a beautiful painting of Ruth done by a very talented artist.

“I’m looking forward to visiting Israel and meeting the rest of your family.” He said. What could he say, modern day Isreal had been through a lot since it was founded in 1948.

Zack looked at his wine glass, “This is good,” he said changing the subject having had a couple of sips of wine while admiring Ruth’s boobs. It had an oaky flavor and the deep red color typical of a Cabernet.

“Yes, it is. All the way from Israel. It’s even Kosher.” She smiled, her lips red from the wine, her big brown eyes watching him as she moved even closer until they were only inches apart, hip to hip.

He took a couple of more healthy sips of wine then set his nearly empty glass on the coffee table and turned to his gorgeous sex date as he laid an arm on the back of the couch. Rebekah held her glass with two hands near her chest.

“So,” he said diving right in since they exhausted the small talk in the car and while touring the home. “You had some interesting thoughts on sex when we talked in the library. Where did all those ideas come from?” He dropped his right hand to her naked knee and left it there as he made himself comfortable. He noticed the slight ‘camel toe’ of her thong before finding her dark eyes looked at him and smiled again. Her face was pretty with strong features, her tan probably more a product of her genes than the sun.

She took a moment before starting her answer, “Thank you for remembering our conversation, that’s a good question. I would say a combination of my upbringing and my experiences in the last year, since starting with the ‘Sex Date’ network.” She continued to sip her wine as she spoke. Zack picked up his glass again with his left hand. His right hand enjoying the warmth of her soft skin.

Zack learned a lot in the next half hour as they conversed about her ideas on sex and some of his too. Rebekah was part of the Reform denomination of the Jewish faith of which her father was a leading Rabbi here in Nashville. It was more liberal than the traditional Orthodox or Conservative denominations, instead adapting to the current times and needs of the day.

Rebekah had her first ‘period’ or menstrual flow just after her thirteenth birthday. After Rebekah’s ‘flow’ started, she and her mother talked more openly, woman to woman about their family history as it related to sex. Her mother shared with Rebekah that she had started having sex at 15, with Jonathan who at the time was a commando in the secretive Sayeret Matkal and several years older than her.

The short version was that the Abrams family had a complicated family history and that Rebekah would explain in more detail after Zack met her mother, who was over in Israel at the moment. She said at first, she was embarrassed by the talk of sex before becoming intrigued. Her mother talked to her about ideas and practices that in many cultures were not talked about or were forbidden.

When Rebekah turned 14 her life changed when her parents arranged for an older cousin to sleep with her for one night. The boy took her virginity while her parents watched sitting in one corner of the room. This was their family’s way of thinking, not wanting her ‘virginity’ to be an artificial barrier to enjoying her young sex life. “Taking it off the table’, so their daughter could move on.

As she told her story she scooted closer to Zack, and he wrapped his arms around her as she leaned against him, familiar. He wore sweatpants and a school t-shirt having come straight from baseball practice. His shoes were left by the front door. He held her, his arms under her breasts as she rested against his chest and talked. By now he was sure she noticed his cock poking her in the small of her back.

He asked a question that suddenly came to mind, “So when you started the whole sex date thing a year ago, you were not a virgin looking for a nice boy?”

“Yes, you did your research. So, about this time last year when I was fifteen, I started going on ‘sex dates’ my parents set up for me.” She answered, “No, I was not a virgin wanting to be deflowered.”