Chapter 5: Variations on a Theme

The next morning I arrived at the high school a bit early, and went to the high school office. I looked around; the campus was large and spread out, not at all like I'd grown up with in New York, or what Susan was used to either on Long Island. Everything was brightly colored, and just plain much newer than the New York schools had been.

The people in the office were nice, and I ended up chatting to one of the school secretaries for a few minutes; she'd grown up in Darien and Hartford, places where Roger had grown up. Small world.

Nancy Howland was a surprise; sure, she'd sounded nice on the phone, and had described herself as tall and thin. Tall as in six two, thin as perhaps 130 pounds. She was wearing a white golf-type shirt, with the school name on the front, blue bands on the sleeves; she was in her late twenties. She was wearing shorts that came down to mid-thigh, plus nice sneakers.

"I'm Nancy," she said, holding out her hand.

"Laura Alban Hunt," I introduced myself. She looked at me, and I looked back at her. Nancy had cute brown eyes and brown hair that was done up in a ponytail, a ponytail that came down between her shoulder blades. I bet, I thought to myself, that's pretty when she lets it down. Altogether very cute.

We chatted, then she led me through the halls to her office, a bright, largish room with four desks, long windows on one side, letting in loads of light and looking out over the athletic fields, busy even at this hour.

I took the application and told her I'd bring it back the next morning, along with the fingerprint application receipt. We chatted for a few minutes about the weather, and then I excused myself, not wanting to bother her.

I walked back to my car, sat down and started it up, cranking up the air conditioning. There had been, I thought, something there when we'd shaken hands hello. There surely had been something there when we'd shaken hands again when I left. On the spur of the moment I decided that tomorrow I'd behave like a giddy teenager with a crush: I'd see if she wanted to get some coffee or something one of these afternoons after work.

I went to the DPS, the Arizona equivalent of the Highway Patrol. They were brisk, matter of fact, and quick. I told them there was an office in New York that had some personal information on me. I wrote down the address and phone, saw the young officer who had taken the information glance at me. "I'll put a priority on this, Mrs. Hunt." Just that; he didn't offer sympathy, just support.

It's unfair, I suppose, but it was true. Most people who offer sympathy, who say they're sorry are really talking about themselves. They are really glad it isn't them in your shoes, pleased and happy about it. They can't admit it to themselves, most of them. Surely they'd deny it if asked, but you could see it in their eyes. It was sickening, really.

I got home, rested for a bit, contemplated life and me. I wasn't sure what I wanted to do. For the first time since I could remember I felt like that there had to be more to life than what I was doing.

I didn't have to work. My parents had passed away when I was in college, and while they had not been super rich, they had left me a comfortable nest egg. Roger's parents were alive and well, and richer than most. Roger had a trust fund that came to him on his twenty-first birthday, two more, larger ones, on his twenty-fifth. Roger had made good money, had good insurance, including life insurance. His company had a varied 401K program, but Roger had laughed about it. "You never get ahead if they find you putting money into it. Mug's game." Thus, I had considerable savings in some tax-free municipal bond funds. And the money from the 9/11 survivors funds, that I'd placed into another mutual fund like the others.

No, money was never going to be a problem. I'd lived my life since I'd married Roger content to be a mom, raising my daughter, keeping house for my husband. I'd been happy, and considered feminists who thought I was nuts to be fools as well as crazy.

A little later there was a knock at the front door. Not sure who it could be, I went and peeked; it was Jamie.

I opened it up, and she nodded at it, and I opened it wider. "Where's Susan?" I asked.

She was inside now, turned and looked at me as I closed the door. "She wanted to talk to my mom."

I ran that around in my head, decided that I was in no position to judge. "I got to thinking," Jamie went on, "you might want to talk to someone too."

I tried to keep my face expressionless. What, Laura, are the odds of two thirteen-year-olds propositioning you in the same week and it's unrelated? And don't forget the sixteen year old!

"Talk, eh?" I asked.

"Sure," Jamie replied. "Just another four letter word that means intercourse."

"It does," I agreed. "What do you mean by intercourse?"

She reached down took my hands, both of them, and led them to her breasts. "This."

I felt a warmth spreading through my body that led me to stare down at my hands. I was standing in my living room cupping the breasts of a thirteen-year-old girl, a friend of my daughter's. My nipples were rock hard, my middle was twisted into a knot of desire. Right then I wanted very, very much to have my pussy sucked like Gail had done, like Susan had done.

I was as excited or more excited than the other day when I'd seen Gail's nipples erect and horny, because that's what Jamie's were. What mine were. Was it fair to seek pleasure from someone so much younger than myself? I met Jamie's eyes, saw they were half closed, a small smile on her face. I let go of her breasts and started undoing her blouse.

"It's a front hook," Jamie whispered as my fingers finished with the last button. I reached up, undid her small B-cup bra and now ran my fingers over her round breasts with the impossibly small nipples. I rubbed a little harder, wishing her nipples stood out more so I could rub them between my fingers; but they lay quite flat, just the merest hint of a hard tip in the center.

Reason fled; passion remained.

I leaned down and ran my tongue over one of her breasts, getting it wet, finally centering on her tiny nipple and areola, not even the size of a dime. I sucked, licked some more, and lightly brushed her nipple with my teeth, although there was almost no way to do much more than come close.

My hands had a mind of their own, working now on the snap of her jeans, and then pushing them down. I ran my hand under the waistband of her panties, pushing them aside, focusing on her slit. A luxuriant growth of hair, two fat pussy lips underneath. Moist, warm... My finger slid easily over her clit and found the entrance to her vagina and plunged inside.

"Oh yes! Yes!" Jamie muttered. "Finger fuck me! Do it hard! Oh, please!"

So I did. My finger moved like a small piston, a miniature version of a penis. Pressure on Jamie's clit brought continued sounds of pleasure from her, then a long soft gasp as she came.

"Don't stop!" Jamie asked, breathless. So I continued to move my finger inside her.

As a few minutes, Jamie sighed and said, "Use two fingers!"

I mentally blinked. I'd masturbated since I was younger than Jamie, distressingly close to twice as long as she'd been alive. And I'd never thought of that? I inserted a second finger into her pussy, rubbed still harder, moving my fingers faster and faster. Jamie gasped, and then it was like she'd died -- a long exhalation of breath, followed by total relaxation of all of her muscles.

More like, I thought, looking at her face as I continued to finger her, more like a singer hitting a long, high note. Pleasure and accomplishment, achievement of a heartfelt goal.

Jamie laid her head down on my shoulder, almost purring. When she looked up, she had a smile on her face. She reached out and started undoing my blouse.

When my blouse was open, she reached behind me to undo my bra. "Everyone is different, Mom says. There's nothing wrong with staying forever with one person you love; but at the same time, there's a lot to learn meeting new people. Everyone is different, everyone brings a little something new to your life, to loving."

Jamie leaned close, rubbing her small breasts against my larger ones. "I really, really get off, rubbing breasts." Jamie said, her eyes gleaming with desire and pleasure again. "Really, really get off."

It was an exquisitely wonderful feeling; I just relaxed, letting the moment take me. For quite some time Jamie was content to brush breasts, then when she tired of that, started on my slacks. In a few seconds she pushed them down, and I kicked them away, panties too.

"Bed!" Jamie commanded.

I slid her jeans down, and she finished shedding her blouse and bra. Then, hand in hand, I led her to my bedroom. I lay down, and she crawled between my legs. Jamie started by licking my inner thighs like some wonderful ice cream cone, long wet strokes that sometimes trailing into my bush, finding my clit, other times circling the hollow of my hip.

It was like a drug, I thought. The hormones and emotions rose and rose, drowning out all my other thoughts and concerns. There was just Jamie's tongue between my legs, licking and sucking. The universe, life, worries -- everything vanished in the orgasmic haze that shrouded me.

Wild, I thought, simply wild! The world slowly came back into focus. Jamie was behind me now. I was lying sideways on the bed; no memory of having turned so. Her hand was wrapped around me, lightly cupping one of my breasts. She was asleep, I was sure.

I sighed, mostly to myself. Gail had been good; Susan better. Jamie? Oh my! Can you connect the dots here, Laura Alban Hunt? You are well on the way to being addicted to seducing young girls. The younger, the better. I mentally shook my head; that wasn't true. Gail had seen my interest, and she had come on strong. Susan sensed my horniness, and I had responded to her because she was horny too. Jamie had come on to me. I hadn't seduced even one of them; if anything you could make the case that all three of them seduced me.

Did I think it would matter a hill of beans if it ever got out? I snorted. Nope! Did it matter to me? It was a fig leaf for my conscience, I thought. If I met a young, cute, desirable girl... would I try to seduce her?

If it left me feeling like this afterwards? Oh yeah! If there was this to look forward to, I'd certainly give it a try!

The touch on my breast grew firmer, I felt Jamie lean close and kiss my ear. "You awake?" Jamie whispered.

"Yes."

"Mom's going to be here soon. Susan and I have math and English to work on. Mom said if you didn't feel like fixing dinner for four, she would. Our place or yours."

"It's not a problem." I just needed to get double the stuff out of the freezer.

I rolled over and faced her; there was no hesitation on either of our parts. We kissed long and hard. I ran my hand down her back, touched her bottom, and cupped it, pulling her to me.

"Mmmmm!" Jamie said after a few minutes. "I gotta stop! I want to come back and talk some other time, though!"

"Oh please!" I exclaimed, "I want that, I do!"

"I'll understand if you find someone special," Jamie told me. "But before then, I want to be with you again. Not too long!"