Chapter 3

Stuart Brooks was a handsome bachelor of thirty-two. He was two years older than Natalie's husband Mark, but he had known the younger man briefly in college. They had been bunkmates on a month long archaeological dig in Arizona. The camp Director remembered Jenkins as a rather serious university sophomore who had taken the trouble to transplant nearly forty ocotillo shrubs that the students and their professors had dug up during the expedition.

Brooks himself had received his degree that same year, and after that, he had had little contact with his former classmate. He had almost immediately begun working on the project of helping urban adolescents, although he had little money of his own with which to finance any of his projects.

An enterprising, charming young man, Stuart Brooks had managed to woo the widow of a wealthy financier, Sybil Weatherly, into practically giving him the money for the camp project he wanted to start up by Lake Devonshire. She agreed to finance the land purchase and the construction program with only a negligible interest charge to Stuart, a charge which her accountant and lawyers had insisted upon. In appreciation, Stuart had named the camp after her, adding his own name with a hyphen to symbolize his undying indebtedness to her.

The fifty-ish widow was, in her words, "Pleased as punch" with the arrangements her young partner made for the camp. She had demanded to be driven up there when the first session opened ten years ago, serving twenty five underprivileged boys from the city almost entirely at her expense. The six week program was highly successful, and the following year, Stuart had been able to negotiate government grants to expand the camp's operations.

Mrs. Weatherly's health had declined steadily over the next eight years, but the energetic Camp Director kept up his frequent visits to her and brought her numerous gifts of candy or flowers. He became such a well known figure in Mrs. Weatherly's upper class neighborhood that the rumor spread that young Brooks was the widow's private gigolo. When her son heard about her apparent indiscretions, he completely renounced his relationship with her, declaring that no mother of his would cavort around with some young social climber.

Sybil didn't even bother to explain to her son that Stuart Brooks was no social climber, but she quietly disowned him and replaced him in her will. When the wealthy widow died two years ago, Stuart could hardly believe the extent of his good fortune. Not only had she left him enough stocks and property to be independent for life, but she had also deeded the Lake Devonshire property to the county with the stipulation that the Summer Camp for Boys was solely at the disposal of Stuart Brooks.

Since then, the camp's operations had expanded tenfold. Instead of twenty-five boys for six weeks, they were now able to handle a hundred boys for three different sessions throughout the summer, a total of three hundred boys. More cabins and recreation facilities were being built all the time, and Brooks envisioned that in three years, Weatherly-Brooks Summer Camp for Boys would be able to accept five hundred boys for each six week camping session.

Already the camp was providing academic instruction as well as the traditional outdoor activities that most summer camps had. There were counseling and social programs as well, to give specific help to the often immature or insecure young boys who would be entering high school in the fall. Boys who had been through Stuart Brook's camp showed a remarkable improvement in maturity and confidence as a result of their camp experiences, and the Camp Director was anxious to see that trend continue.

That was why he had decided, after Mrs. Weatherly's death, to hire women as camp staff members. When the old widow had been alive, Stuart had thought it prudent to limit his teachers and counselors to men, to insure that his benefactor wouldn't be offended or even possibly envious. But two years ago, he had hired Arlene Thatcher as a cook, feeling that the large, buxom nutritional expert couldn't possibly be seen as a threat to Sybil Weatherly's memory.

Last year, a marine biology expert had joined the staff on the condition that he be allowed to bring his wife with him. That was Lucille Wells, and she stayed out of sight so much that she might as well have lived elsewhere. The only time she came out of her trailer was to teach a leather-working class, and she only did it to keep from being bored.

It was a bit of a shame, too, Brooks reflected. Her husband was busy throughout the day with his counseling and guidance duties. Lucille was petite, blonde, and voluptuously proportioned -- she definitely had the kind of possibility that Arlene Thatcher lacked.

But this summer Stuart had Natalie Jenkins to think about. He remembered when his old classmate Mark had contacted him in town a couple weeks after Easter. He'd always thought Mark was the kind of guy to plug his way through school, at a slow, thorough pace, emerging with a post-graduate degree of some kind. Then he'd end up in some kind of laboratory experimenting with some kind of plasmic substances while he lived in a darkened basement below the lab.

On the phone, however, Mark had said that he was a high school teacher and that he was married! Shit! Stuart had reflected. Old Jenkins the bookworm got married and I'm still a bachelor... Christ! But of course Mark Jenkins wouldn't have married the kind of woman Stuart appreciated anyway. Jenkins was the type to pick out some mousy librarian whose idea of a risque subject was the sex life of an amoeba.

That was why Stuart had been slightly taken aback when he had actually met his old college buddy's wife. Jesus Fucking Christ! he'd remarked mentally. Old Jenkins really got himself a fox! Natalie was as voluptuous as any centerfold model Stuart had ever seen, and she seemed to be successful in her teaching, too. Her shoulder length black hair framed her face in a mass of big, billowing curls, accenting the almost blue shine that reflected off it. Her eyes were absolutely gigantic, shadowed by her long black lashes, and her lovely ivory skin was flawless. She didn't look a day over eighteen, the way her proud tits jutted forward like a couple of firm melons, ripe and ready for some hungry man to taste. She was tall and slender, her perfect proportions overshadowed only by the incredible firm length of her legs, and Stuart had wondered why she became a teacher instead of a dancer.

Natalie uncomfortably skirted the Camp Director's leading question at the time, stammering a weak reply to the effect that if she'd become a dancer she'd have never met her husband. To herself she had admitted that at this point, it wouldn't have made a whole lot of difference if she hadn't met Mark, but in her heart she knew she loved him deeply and really wanted to make her marriage to him work.

Now, as she hurried across the clearing to the Camp Office, Natalie thought about that first conversation she had had with her husband's college friend. She'd been aware, at the time, of the older man's appraising stares, and she sensed immediately his instinctive approval. But this kind of male approval was something the beautiful raven-haired teacher was used to by now, and it worried her. It was the same kind of frank admiration she enjoyed in the eyes of her young male students, and it was the kind of admiration that could lead to embarrassing problems.

Oh, God! she groaned. I've only been here two days, and it already had happened! I've already ruined Mark's and my chances here! If only she had heeded her conscience's warnings about taking a job in an all-male summer camp -- especially one in which nearly all the males were thirteen and fourteen year old boys! Dear God! What can I ever do about it?

She heard a flurry of youthful snickers and guffaws, seeming to follow her across the clearing. She felt like turning around and heading back towards the staff cabin instead of talking to Stuart Brooks, but she knew she couldn't look the young gigglers in the face. Logically she knew that they were responding to her just the way every other healthy male youth responded to her, but it didn't help ease the embarrassment. All the beautiful young teacher could do was walk fast, and hope that nothing happened as she approached the Camp Office.

The Camp Director looked out the open window in his office just in time to see a flustered-looking Natalie Jenkins running lightly toward his door. Behind her, he saw the vague huddle of young male forms and heard their barely suppressed laughter as their eyes followed the black-haired beauty across the clearing. Stuart couldn't avoid smiling himself as he remembered how he'd have reacted to gorgeous Mrs. Jenkins' twitching ass when he was a teenager. And he grinned outright when he thought how he'd like to respond now.

"Come in, come in, Natalie," he said grandly as she stepped into the tiny office. Stuart Brook's desk nearly filled the entire room it was so large, and the young teacher felt as if she was wedged in between the edge of the desk top and the wall. "Sit down," the older man offered, indicating a folding chair behind the door.

Natalie twisted around to reach the chair, but when it was folded out she found that she had to sit sideways or cross her legs out the office door. She smiled nervously, realizing that the Camp Director was fully aware of her discomfort and even possibly enjoying it.

"I guess that's the penalty for having such nice long legs," he grinned, his gray eyes twinkling suggestively.

Natalie blushed and tried to ignore his remark. Was he trying to hint at something? Could he possibly know already about what had happened with Jason Powell only a couple hours ago? God, it was too horrible to contemplate! He could fire her right now, if he wanted to... and then what would happen to her marriage to Mark?

The pretty young woman was so confused by her own whirling thoughts that she didn't even hear Stuart's question until he had repeated it a second time.

"What was it you wanted to see me about, Natalie?"

"Oh!... Excuse me... the... uh... I had some class plans that I wanted to ask about... It's just a suggestion, but... well..." She opened up one of the file folders she had brought with her from the staff cabin. She took out a sheaf of writing assignments that she had given to her students this morning and held them out for him to look at.

Stuart gave the papers a cursory glance and then looked back at the gorgeous young wife of his old college buddy. Holy shit... to think Mark Jenkins could have married this fantastic chick!

Natalie could tell that the older man's mind wasn't on her assignments, but she couldn't allow herself to wonder what he was actually thinking about. She'd gotten herself into enough trouble for one day, and she had a whole summer ahead of her. She adopted a business-like expression and pointed to one of the boys' papers.

"Well Stuart," she began with a deep breath, "as you can see the students are all on different levels. I know they've been grouped alphabetically, and I'm not trying to suggest that you change the classes or anything, but I think it would be helpful if we taught them on an individualized basis..." The teacher paused, waiting for some kind of response from the older man.

Stuart smiled with feigned attentiveness, but he let his eyes rove down over the full heaving mounds of her breasts, protruding lushly under the stiff camp blouse she wore. Shit, he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen a pair of jugs like Natalie Jenkins'. And to think they were being wasted on old Mark! Too late, the Camp Director replied, "Hmmmm, you mean work at their own speed?"

Natalie nodded confusedly. She felt self-conscious, but she didn't know if it was her own private guilt or something that Stuart was deliberately doing to make her uncomfortable.

"You see, Stuart, I feel it's the best way I can deal with all the different levels in the class. I only have each class for a week, and it's really impossible to try to bring the slower boys up to the same level as the smarter ones in that short a time... Honestly, if they each worked on separate progressive assignments they'd all learn more... and be better prepared for high school.

The teacher's voice trailed off as she saw that Stuart was indeed ignoring what she was saying. His eyes were firmly fixed on the front of her blouse now, where she could feel her nipples stiffening inexplicably under her brassiere. She wasn't getting aroused, surely! It was only her fearful nervousness that was causing those sensitive little tips of her softly mounding breasts to pressure against the confines of her bra. For the second time, the dark-haired teacher's ivory skin flushed pink as she turned her face away in embarrassment.

"Yes... go on," Stuart prompted, not raising his eyes from her voluptuous breasts. "You want to try this experimental plan... is that it?"

"It's not exactly experimental... it's been tried and proven in the last ten years... Now you have been keeping up with educational methods, haven't you?" She looked him squarely in the eyes, in an attempt to regain some of her composure.

"Yeah... sure," the older man replied vaguely. "But I want to give all the kids a fair chance... and individual assignments aren't fair to everybody... Some boys won't learn anything, and some will do all the work... What have you got in mind anyway, Natalie?"

The young teacher was grateful to have the opportunity to talk about something more concrete. She took out the notepapers in the other folder and offered them across the desk. "It's just a progressive series of assignments... Some boys might finish this set in a day, and others might take a week, but at least they'll all learn something..." She looked up expectantly, and nearly sighed aloud when she now that Stuart's eyes were again feasting on her insufficiently disguised curves. "Mr. Brooks," she began formally, in near-exasperation, "am I doing something wrong?"

It was the Camp Director's turn to be startled, but his initial surprise at Mark's wife's spirited question was quickly replaced by a half-smile of amusement. He liked a lady with guts, and he suddenly had the urge to find out just how gutsy this brunette chick was. Hell, old Jenkins wouldn't mind... weren't they old college buddies? A licentious gleam crept into the older man's eyes as he almost imperceptibly shoved his chair back from the over-sized desk.

"No, Natalie," he said evenly, the salacious smile still playing on his lips, "you're not doing anything wrong... yet. But I sure would like to do something wrong with you!"

The intent of the handsome bachelor's remark was unmistakable, and the young wife suddenly froze to her chair. She didn't move when Stuart slowly stepped around the desk and came over to close the door to the office. His hairy bare leg brushed suggestively against her smooth, slender thigh as he secured the lock and turned back to look down at the trembling young teacher.

"Now, isn't it better to have that hot sun blocked out? The glare was so bright I couldn't even see these papers you brought me." But even though he was talking in a normal tone of voice about a normal subject, the Camp Director didn't go back to his seat. His body was leaning uncomfortably over Natalie's seated form, and she instinctively inclined away from his hovering body.

"Yes, it... it was rather... warm... Stuart..." she stammered. "I think that I'll just... go on back to the cabin You can keep those folders and... and see what you th-think of my idea." Her voice was quavering so badly at the end of her statement that she was afraid she wouldn't be able to say anything else, and she had to get out of that office quick!

She tried to stand up from the folding chair, but her shoulder collided squarely with the older man's chest, and she felt his hand at her elbow.

"Oh, not so fast, Natalie," he admonished, "I was enjoying our little talk. I'm sure you can understand... In my work here, I rarely get the chance to talk at any length with women -- especially as nice looking as you."

"Thank you, Stuart," Natalie replied hurriedly as she tried again to stand-up. "But I have some papers to grade."

"After only two days, Natalie? I may not be a teacher, but I know you don't get assignments to correct after only two days!" The Camp Director leaned against the edge of the desk and positioned his legs on either side of the young woman's demurely crossed thighs.

Oh, Lord this can't be happening, the curvaceous teacher said to herself. I'm only imagining that he's... he-s m-making a pass at me... aren't I? She looked up curiously into the light-brown- haired man's still-smiling face. His eyes were fixed firmly on the barely-concealed vee up between her crossed legs, as though his gaze was burning right into and through her thin nylon panties. God no! she protested inwardly.

"Ah, yes... this is much better," the Camp Director said with smug satisfaction. "You know, old Mark is quite a lucky guy to be married to such a... a liberal woman as you are."

"Liberal?" Natalie repeated confusedly. What did he mean by that?

"Certainly," Stuart confirmed. "I mean, you go in for all the new, liberal education ideas... and you like to let everybody do their own thing..." He glanced down at her and pressured inward with his powerful legs so that his inner thighs squeezed into her bare satiny skin. "I suppose your -- uh -- personal life is just as progressive as your teaching..."

This last observation sounded like a question, and Natalie wasn't sure how to answer it. The Camp Director was obviously hinting broadly at her most private sexual habits, but she couldn't believe her ears. This man was supposed to be a friend of her husband's! How could be seriously considering... God! She couldn't even complete the thought.

Desperately she glanced around the tiny little office, groping for some clue as to what she should do. But there was nothing, no picture on which she could comment, not even a clock so she could pretend to be late for something. She wanted sincerely to say something blunt and unmistakable, that would put an end to the older man's salacious insinuations, but she knew she couldn't jeopardize her job. She had come here specifically to see if the change of environment might do something to help her and Mark's relationship, and already she had made one potentially dangerous mistake. She just couldn't compound her error. All she could do was just sit Stuart out, and hope that he didn't have the audacity to do what he seemed to be hinting at.

But Natalie Jenkins wasn't aware of the Camp Director's past, and she didn't have any idea how he had managed to finance his whole camp project. Had she known, she would have realized that anything Stuart Brooks wanted, Stuart Brooks got, by whatever methods were required. And right now, Stuart Brooks wanted to know a lot more about his college friend's wife... a lot more than she imagined.

The older man finally raised his eyes from the teacher's trembling form and glanced toward the window with a faraway look. "Yeah," he said almost absentmindedly, "I can tell you're one of those hot and hearty types... You remind me of a woman I knew -- - I hope I'm not offending you -- who used to get off on two- three guys at a time..."

Natalie gasped at the man's boldness, unable to say anything to stop his suggestive comments. She winced inwardly as he continued, apparently unaware of her discomfort.

"Yeah, that Lollie was quite some chick, Natalie... and she was a lot like you, married and all, but a real swinger. Do you and old Mark swing, Natalie?"

Oh, God! Oh God! the black-haired teacher groaned to herself. What on earth can I say? I've go to get out of here! Abruptly she rose from her chair, pushing Stuart's legs away from her own as she shook free of his subtle grip on her thighs. "No, we don't swing," she lied hotly, embarrassed by the idea that just this afternoon she had succumbed to what might be considered swinging in the Camp Director's eyes.