Chapter 7

Whether it’s surprising or not depends on how the reader of this story interprets things, but the girls did not attempt to have sex with their father (or any other male) for two weeks after they visited their primary care doctor and were routed to the PA who dealt with the issue of IUD insertion. They were able to get their devices the same day of the visit, because it took two weeks to get the appointment and they hadn’t had sex during that time. The only thing their mother said (or intended to say) on the way home was, “Don’t go wild, okay?”

“Mom,” said Emma, drawing out the “oh” sound. “We’re not going to do anything different than we already do.”

“Geez, Em,” said Beth. “You could be a little more tactful.”

“I think tact went on its way when you two pinned him down and had your way with him,” said Julie. She had made the girls describe the scene in which Bob’s penis got first in Emma, and then in Beth. She had also demanded to know what happened after that, before she got home from the funeral. The girls had not lied about it. Had these descriptions involved any other female(s) on Earth, Julie would have been murderous, but these were her daughters and she loved them. She also understood how it had all happened.

“I can’t believe you’re not mad at us,” said Beth, at one point.

“I’m not mad because I know I can trust you. I can trust your father, too. He confessed to me within probably two minutes of me getting back. Then you told me the truth, so I know I can trust you, too. Trust is very important in this situation. I also know you’re not going to try to steal him or break up our marriage. You can’t marry him. As long as I don’t lose out in my love life, then I’m fine.”

“What you mean is that if we wear him out or he can’t get a boner for you, then you’re going to be unhappy,” said Emma.

“Geez, Em,” groaned Beth again. “You have to learn some tact!”

“Tactless or not, she’s right,” said Julie. “We understand each other perfectly.”

Most people don’t operate in a social network like this one, but it seems understandable that the girls might not jump Bob’s bones for a while. Whether it was because they had no idea how to approach it, or whether it was in deference to their mother, all they did was give their father long hugs and hot kisses. They continued to go on dates and, initially, when they got home, Julie would look at them with an arched eyebrow, an unspoken question on her mind, and whichever twin it was would say, “I’m good. I had fun but that’s all.”

It took two weeks before Beth came home from a date and said, “Can I go spend some time with Daddy?”

“Don’t keep him up too late,” Julie replied.

When Emma got in and found out her sister was in the bedroom with Bob, she simply joined them. Both got very nice orgasms with their daddy’s penis in them and then left. Julie came in then and saw him with an erection.

“Don’t tell me they left you high and dry,” she said.

“Okay, I won’t. Are you feeling frisky by chance?”

She laughed and took her clothes off. Half an hour later Bob was no longer high and dry, and Julie was very happy.

The girls also only availed themselves of that kind of happiness on date nights. The urge was there, but they knew not to push it. And, when you know something yummy is available, you don’t crave it as much.

Then they met a boy named Paul French, who was destined to change their lives forever. Of course they didn’t know it at the time, but most change comes slowly, unless it is traumatic.

The changes Paul brought about were both slow and not traumatic at all.

They had seen Paul in the halls at school, but had never paid any attention to him, and didn’t even know his name. Neither girl had ever had a conversation with him and they weren’t in any of his classes. That’s because Paul was a senior. The other thing that had prevented them from interacting with him was that Paul was what some in school might have called “a loser” or the possibly less negative term “nerd”. The extracurricular activities he participated in were the school newspaper, the chess club, and the audiovisual club. He might also have been called a geek, too. He wasn’t shy when he was in his own crowd, but in the halls he tried to be invisible. On a busy street, in public, that would have been easy. He was five feet nine inches tall, had unremarkable brown hair and eyes, was neither fat nor skinny, and had a soft voice. He was basically ‘ ordinary’ in every way, with the exception that he was a genius. Only his friends and teachers knew about that aspect of his personality.

Paul didn’t lord his intelligence over anybody; quite the opposite. If a friend needed help he was happy to aid that friend in overcoming whatever issue existed. He made money by tutoring some high profile students: cheerleaders, jocks, and some rich kids who were afraid they would fail a class or the SATs and then be unable to get into the college their parents wanted them in. Other than his fee, the only provision he insisted on was that they never tell anyone he was the tutor who helped them.

“I’ll help you pass the class,” he would say. “After that, pretend you don’t even know who I am.”

The recipients of his scholastic aid were usually quite happy with that arrangement. First, they were embarrassed that they needed a tutor and second, they were embarrassed that it was a loser who helped them.

Nobody ever asked him why he wanted things this way. If they had, he might have said, “That’s just how I want it. You’re either in or not. It doesn’t make any difference to me.”

The girls met Paul because they had to have a science credit to stay on track for having enough credits to graduate and they chose chemistry in their junior year. They’d already taken Biology and in their school Physics was usually taken in one’s senior year. There were a couple of science electives but their guidance counselor said Chem would look good on their transcripts.

It turned out Chemistry pretty much owned them from the start. By October they were already in trouble. Both had a D in the class and they were getting farther and farther behind.

Mister Viceroy, their teacher, said he knew a tutor who could get them back on track.

“If anybody can, he can,” said Viceroy to Julie, during a parent/teacher conference.

Communication took place and Paul French was hired to get the girls to where they needed to be before final exams were given. If they did well on the final, they could come out of the class with a C. if they aced the final, they might even get a B in the class.

The girls were not enthusiastic about being tutored.

“I’ll never understand it,” groaned Beth. “It won’t matter if we get a tutor or not. I hate that class!”

Emma remained silent, but Julie knew she felt the same way.

“Look at it this way,” said their mother. “If you don’t get a decent grade in Chemistry it’s going to pull your GPA down. With a substandard GPA you might not be able to get in to college. That means you’ll have to get a job at some place that pays minimum wage. I’m talking McDonalds, or those women at the mall who sell you clothes. Is that the kind of career you want? I thought you wanted to be a doctor.”

“I do,” grunted Beth. “But why would a doctor need to know chemistry?”

“Gee,” said Julie. “I don’t know. Maybe to understand the chemistry in a patient’s body? Or maybe to understand how a medicine works? Wait right there.”

She got up and left, returning with her laptop. She opened it and typed in a search inquiry. She read for several minutes, clicking the mouse pad and moving around in various sites.

“Medical students have to take organic and biochemistry during medical school,” she announced. “If you’re serious about going to med school, you need a solid background in high school chemistry.”

“Okay, okay,” groaned Beth. “I’ll try.”

“I’m not going to medical school,” said Emma. She had always said she had no idea what she wanted to be or do after high school. She said she wanted to go to college, but not what she wanted to major in.

“You are going to help your sister excel at chemistry,” said Julie, her voice severe. “To do that you’re going to have to be as smart in chemistry as she is. This is just a thing you have to do. Once it’s finished you can forget all about it, but you’re going to do this!”

“Okay,” said Emma, her voice light. “We’ll give it a shot. It can’t be that bad. Who is the tutor?”

“A boy from your school. He’s a senior and Mister Viceroy says he’s a wizard when it comes to chemistry.”

“What’s his name?” asked Beth.

“Paul. Paul French,” said Julie.

“Don’t know him,” said Emma.

“Me either,” said Beth.

“Beth, do I need to get you a tutor for English, too?” sighed Julie.

“What?” Beth responded.

“You said ‘me either’ and it should have been ‘me neither’.”

“They mean the same thing,” said Beth.

“No, they don’t.’ Me neither’ means neither have I. ‘ Me either’ should include ‘ or’, such as either this or that. Neither is paired with nor.”

“Nor do I know Paul what’s-his-name,” said Beth, her voice stubborn. “There. Are you happy now? I don’t need a tutor in English!”

“Fine,” said Julie. “You just work with Paul and get your grades up. That’s all I’m asking.”

“We’ll do it,” said Emma. “Neither do we wish to incur your wrath, nor do we want to fail the class.” She grinned. “I don’t need an English tutor either.”

“Very funny,” said Julie. “You’ll meet with Paul on date nights until your grades improve.”

“Now, that’s not fair!” blurted Emma.

“What other nights do you have free?” asked Julie. “You can’t do it on a school night. He can’t either. Friday and Saturday nights are the logical choice. I don’t want you staying up late on Sunday nights because you’ll have school the next day.”

“How long are these tutoring sessions?” moaned Beth.

“He’ll decide that,” said Julie. “I’ll tell him to start this coming Friday night.”

“Where?” asked Emma.

“Here, of course,” said their mother. “I’m not going to inflict you two on his parents. And you’ll feel at home, here. You can have snacks and all that while you study.”

It was a logical plan, from Julie’s perspective. It would be in a controlled environment, meaning she would know the girls were actually studying. And missing some dates would, hopefully, encourage them to apply themselves and get their grades up.

The girls’ bedroom was chosen as the place for Paul to educate them because, in theory, in that location there would be no distractions. If they were tutored at the dining room table the TV in the living room could disturb them. If they sat at the kitchen table, the adults coming and going might break their concentration.

What Julie didn’t think about was the social impact of spending that much time with a boy in their bedroom setting. Why would she?

If she had been paying attention, she would have found out why within the first month that Paul started coming to the house.

The twins might not have known who Paul French was, but he knew who they were. The fact they were juniors was of no significance to him. The fact they were popular and, as far as he could tell, friendly to people in different social groups was something he’d noticed. Paul might not wish to be involved in social groups outside his own, but he was a people watcher. He planned to get a degree in psychology in college. Where that would lead to in post graduate studies was not yet defined. The world of psychology was vast and he was sure something would grab his passion. He had already received a letter of acceptance from Cornell University. His applications to Stanford and Johns Hopkins were still pending, but he expected them to offer him a seat in their programs, too. He had aced the SATs and his recommendations were good ones from relatively important people.

As a male of the species, he reacted to the twins like any other male would. They were pretty. They were vivacious; smiling and laughing a lot. They didn’t seem to get dragged into the usual drama high school girls seemed to think was so important. When he accepted the offer to tutor them he hoped they would take it seriously, but he also hoped it would be fun to be around them. They didn’t seem to be like the cheerleaders or rich girls. They seemed to be less self-important. At least he’d be able to spend some time with two killer cute girls. And, he’d get double his fee while doing it.

He didn’t really have expectations, at least not past the point of helping them get their grades up. He didn’t ask girls out and had only been on one date, a disastrous event that his mother engineered with the mother of another girl who attended a private school. Her mother thought of her as a hopeless wallflower and hoped a date would bring her out of her shell. The girl, named Marjorie, hadn’t said more than twenty words during the two hours they spent together. It was obvious she didn’t want to be there. At one point Paul wondered if, perhaps, she was an in-the-closet lesbian, but it was merely an idle thought.

Still, it was stressful for him, too. The kids in his social group didn’t go on dates, either. He assumed he’d meet a girl in college, or wherever he got employed after college. He was in no hurry. Girls were expensive and he needed to save his money for college. He was going to get scholarships and grants, but those weren’t likely to cover living costs.

So, basically, Paul had never spent hours with a girl who viewed him as anything other than an embarrassment or loser.

The Cunningham twins rocked his world as much as, later in the game, he would rock theirs.

The initial meeting with them went better than any of them would have expected.

“Oh! I know you,” said Emma, when Paul was ushered into the kitchen, where the girls were waiting. “I’ve seen you at school.”

“Yeah,” said Beth. “I never knew your name before, though.”

“We travel in different planes,” he said. “You ready to start?”

They were. By the time they ushered him into their very girly bedroom they had decided that they had to make this work so they could get back to making out with boys and feeling the thrills of the teenage mating dance. They loved being able to do that because they knew Daddy would be waiting at home to give them what they didn’t want the boys to give them. If they didn’t go out, they had no excuse to pull him on top of them and get his luscious penis in them.

There were two student desks in their bedroom, provided by their father when they started middle school, for use in doing their homework. An extra chair, for Paul, had been brought in.

He started by giving them his canned speech about forgetting him once he was no longer their tutor.

“Why?” asked Beth.

Paul blinked. Nobody had ever asked him that, so he had to think about how to answer.

“I just want to get through high school and go on to college. I don’t need any drama in my life,” he said.

“And you think we’d cause drama?” asked Emma.

“I just prefer to be left alone,” he said. “If I’m going to tutor you, that’s how I want things to be, okay? I’ll help you get your grades up and then we go our separate ways.”

“What if we become friends?” asked Beth.

“Why would you want to be friends with me?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe I won’t, but maybe I will. Is there any reason we can’t be friends?”

“You don’t even know me,” he pointed out.

“Are you a jerk?” asked Emma.

“Are you mean?” asked Beth.

“Do you spread lies and rumors about girls?” Emma added.

“No!” he snapped. “I’m not any of those things.”

“Okay,” said Beth. “Maybe we can be friends.”

“He’s a senior,” Emma pointed out. “Maybe it’s not cool to be friends with juniors.”

“Can we just get started?” Paul said. “Your parents are paying me by the hour. Let’s not waste their money.”

The first thing the twins did was complain that they didn’t need chemistry in the first place because it had nothing to do with their lives. Before they even cracked a book Paul gave them another canned speech he’d orated for more than one spoiled teenage girl.