Chapter 1

Jane Cowan sat on her front porch discretely observing the teenagers at the bus stop. This time, the little blonde was there again. The focus of much of her observation; the purpose of her sitting on the porch at that moment.

She took a sip of lemonade and fanned herself with a folding hand fan. Half to combat the oppressive heat, and half to combat the flush she felt every time she noticed the young blonde.

Jane was twenty-nine. The young blonde who caught her eye was probably all of sixteen, if that. She was also very much a female.

Oddly Jane was a widow. Not a common situation for a woman of twenty-nine to find herself in.

She had married fairly young; she was just eighteen when she met him, in her first year of college. An older man had caught her eye. He was -then- the ancient age of thirty-five. Jane was a psych major, he was a psych professor from a well to do family.

They had a torrid affarir going almost from the first. As Jane was staying in a dorm at the time, he bore the brunt of the danger as they meet in vacant classrooms -or closets- to quench their desires. They loved hard and deeply.

Jane consented to marry him after her sophomore year. This removed the danger to his career. It also took half the fun out of their relationship. They put it back in by continuing to meet in empty classrooms and closets. If they got caught, it was his career; and their future. Somehow they never got caught. They did have a lot of fun, though.

It wasn't just the fact that she had a full professor as a private tutor that led to her graduating a full year ahead of her class. Jane was in fact quite brilliant.

Without a break after graduation, Jane started in on her masters thesis in human sexual response. This was undoubtedly the source for many jokes about her and her elder husband. (It was also a source of great pride to him.)

The age difference wasn't the only deviation from societal norms. Quite often they weren't alone in their love sessions. Jane did a little private tutoring on her own. Even so her relationship with her husband was strong and satisfying. She wasn't alone in her private tutoring. The outside and shared relationships seemed to add fire to their already sizzling sessions.

Jane earned her masters and began work on her doctorate. Not an easy task. It occupied a great portion of her time. He husband took it in stride, but his outside relationships increased.

One night on his way back from an extended tutoring session with an exceptionally promising student at her family's mountain home, he lost control of his sports car and went sailing off a four-hundred foot cliff. The doctors and police had informed Jane that his death had been instantaneous upon impact.

Jane was devastated. At the reading of the will, she also learned that she was quite rich. She hardly felt compensated by it. Too shattered to continue her work for the time being, she gave up her studies and went into seclusion. The money helped a lot. Her husband had left her some thirty-six million dollars.

Jane had known that he was from a well to do family. She hadn't known they were quite that well to do. She inherited her husbands inheritance from his fathers death just before they had met.

In search of someplace different, she found her way to the pacific coast. Her inheritance had allowed her to pick up a small victorian house in Pacific Grove facing North into arc of the Monterey Bay.

As therapy, each day Jane would walk down to the rocky beach and sit on a large boulder that formed a natural seat just above the tide line. She would sit and watch the cormorants diving for fish as she contemplated her life and her loss.

Her husband Jack had been exceptionally good in bed, that was one of the things she missed about him, but not all. She'd led an active sexual life even before they'd met, perhaps that was why they had clicked so well together. But since her loss she had remained celibate.

Once a week Jane drove up Highway 17 to Berkeley to talk to a psychologist friend she had met through her husband Jack. They talked about her life with and without Jack. Sometimes they just talked about life in California.

After a time, Jane got to where she she began to care again about life. Eventually she packed up her belongings and headed back to school. Rather than give up the house in Pacific Grove she turned it over to a reputable property management firm. It was a good investment. Even if it burned to the ground, the lot was worth what she paid for it. But she had it heavily insured anyway.

Rather than live in the house that she and Jack had shared, she sold it and bought a condo while she completed her doctorate. Once she completed that, she sold the condo and hit the road traveling, in search of a place that didn't hold such painfull memories.

She found the small towns she visited quaint, but not acceptable for living in. She could just picture the neighbors jaws wagging when they discovered that she had a Ph.D. in human sexuality. No woman would let her husband even talk to her. Not that she had any desire to take a woman's husband, but she did like talking to men ... and women. Her inclinations in that direction would undoubtedly go unfulfilled in a small town.

On a skiing trip in the mountain West, she found what she was looking for. A large thriving metropolis just a short drive from the mountains. She bought an old victorian mansion in a depressed -but recovering- area of town and proceeded to start fixing it up.

A four wheel drive vehicle sat in the driveway ready to carry her to the resorts, or into the desert. Meanwhile she amused herself doing private counseling of married couples and lecturing at several of the Universities in town.

The University's helped fulfill her other inclinations, but not totally. She also had to be very discrete. She hated it, but continued her activities.

She'd had a fairly long term relationship with a young coed, but she had graduated and moved on. There was much more to it, but that was explanation enough. Jane was ready for something involving a little bit more danger. She was also very patient and a master planner. Her target was the little blonde.

Her target stood about five-foot seven, tall for her age. She was slim, but big boned. Her face still held the puffiness of her baby fat, but she wasn't the least bit overweight. Her lips were full and soft, her active eyes were blue. Her fingernails were painted dark blue or black. Indicating a tendency towards mysticism and the occult. Yet her clothing remained a bit more conservative than her friends at the bus stop.

Jane observed her most prominent feature; her breasts, which were also a bit larger than the other girls around her. Today they were packaged in a black leotard that stuck out of her hip hugger jeans. Jane figured her for a fully adequate C-cup. Her hair was short cut, but not butch. Rather more like a Dutch-boy cut.

It wasn't just desire that attacted Jane to the young blonde, although she felt quite a sufficient quantity of that. Jane needed a virgin, and they were getting harder to find.

A bus arrived and everybody except the young blonde got on it. She waved to her friends as they pulled off. Then she climbed back onto the short stone wall in front of Jane's house to wait for her own bus, which Jane knew wouldn't come for another hour.

The blonde took one of her books from her backpack and used the cover to fan herself. She looked hot, in more ways than just temperature.

The timing was just about right. Jane let her cook in the early autumn sun for a bit longer. The young blonde glanced around a bit and Jane purposefully took a long, cool sip on her lemonade. The blonde absently licked her lips. When beads of perspiration broke out on the girls forehead Jane gauged the time was right.

"Excuse me" she called, "Would you like to wait in the shade and maybe have a drink or something? It looks pretty hot out there."

"No thanks. That's okay." the girl called back to her suspiciously.

"Suit yourself. I've noticed that your bus takes longer to get here. You can see it coming from a block away if that worries you." Jane said, not showing particular interest.

She took another pull on her lemonade, and then refilled the glass from a large frosty picture.

The girl looked sort of indecisive. But Jane could tell that she was thirsty.

"Okay, sure. Why not." the girl said, sliding off the wall.

She walked to the little gate in the stone wall, and started to fight with the latch.

"Lift up a bit on the gate. I haven't gotten around to fixing that yet." Jane called to her, chuckling.

The girl complied and the gate opened. She closed it behind her, but didn't latch it again. To leave a safe get-away, Jane surmised, accurately.

The girl approached cautiously. Jane seemed to ignore her as she poured another large glass of lemonade. She ascended the few steps up to the porch.

Jane set the glass on the other side of the table from her and motioned to a seat.

The girl seemed reluctant.

"Sit down, I don't bite." Jane chuckled. "But I'd love to nibble on a few parts." she thought to herself.

"Thanks." the girl said, seating herself in the comfortable resin chair.

She took the lemonade glass and after a tentative sip, took a long satisfying swallow.

"Thanks, it's good." the girl said.

"You're welcome. How come you don't catch the same bus as everybody else?" Jane asked.

"I don't live by them. I transferred in from another school ... I had some... problems there." the girl replied, evasively.

"I'm sorry, that's your business. I didn't mean to pry. I was just curious." Jane said, easily.

"That's okay. It wasn't anything serious ... I just thought I'd like it better going to school here." said the girl.

"And do you?" Jane asked.

"Oh, a little bit. I didn't expect the damn buses to take so long." said the girl, taking another sip of her lemonade.

"I saw you waving to your friends when the bus pulled off. Are they why you wanted to go to school here?" Jane asked, looking out, rather than at the girl.

"Oh, not really. I know a few of them. But I don't really have many close friends. I left them back at the old school." the girl replied.

"That must be hard." Jane said.

"Yeah, I sort of miss them." said the blonde, looking around the porch.

"Well, I like to take a break from working on the house and my other work in the heat of the day. I'd welcome your company, if you'd like. I'm not sure I'm up to your friends, but after their bus leaves, you're welcome to sit in the shade here to wait for yours. Even if I'm not here. I won't mind." Jane offered.

"Thanks. That would be nice. What do you do? Uh..." the blonde stalled.

"Jane. Jane Cowan. I'm a psychologist." Jane said.

"I'm Susan. Susan Rowe. What does a psychologist do?" Susan asked.

"Nice to meet you Susan." Jane said, extending her hand.

The blonde shook it awkwardly and replied: "Nice to meet you too, Jane."

"Oh, let's see. A psychologist helps people with their problems." Jane said.

"What sort of problems?" Susan asked.

"Mental type problems." Jane replied.

"Oh, like a shrink?" Susan asked.

"Well, no. A shrink -a psychiatrist- mainly deals with people who have something fundamentally wrong with their thought processes. A psychologist mainly deals with people who really just need somebody to talk to to deal with a temporary problem. We actually only give them someone to talk to while they work things out for themselves. Maybe give them some pointers. Kind of like your counselors at school." Jane replied.

"I get it, I think. You're probably better at it than they are though. Those idiots are the last people I'd go to to talk about my problems with." Susan chuckled.

"That's a problem in the business. Those who aren't very good at it end up in positions where they could have the most effect upon the greatest number of people. Like your school counselors. They probably graduated with a major in education and a minor in sociology or psychology. Meaning that they had a few months training at it. I've had eight years of education specifically aimed at psychology. As much good as it does me now. I spend most my time as a consulting marriage counselor." Jane mused.

"My folks could probably use you. They spend most their time fighting." Susan mused.

"I don't know how much good I could do them. Unless their problem was fundamentally a sexual one. That's my specialty." Jane said.

"I don't think that's a problem with my folks. I mean that they seem to spend plenty of time off doing it. That seems to be the only time they get along." Susan said.

"One of the problems with long term married couples, is that they get to enjoying having each other for sparing partners. They like to fight. If you take that away, they find that they have little left in common. It's not uncommon to settle a long term battle and have the couples separate because they can find nothing else they have in common. But it's a good sign that your folks have a healthy sexual relationship. That's not easy to maintain if there are fundamental differences in their personalities." Jane said.

"That's good to hear. I guess. So ... you know a lot about sex?" Susan asked, smirking.

"I guess so. That's what my doctorate is in." Jane chuckled.

"What's a doctorate?" Susan asked.

"Simply put; A Doctor, or Ph.D. -which stands for doctor of philosophy- is someone who contributes knowledge to the world that wasn't known before. To earn your doctorate, you write a thesis, which is a written argument explaining the knowledge that you have discovered, and which nobody else has known before you." Jane explained.

"I get it. So ... you know a lot about sex then?" Susan chuckled.

"Oh, I don't know if anybody really completely understands about sex. I just happen to know more about certain aspects of it than other people." Jane said.

"So I guess you keep your husband pretty happy then. What time does he get home anyway?" Susan asked.

"Not for a very long time, I'm afraid. He died in a car crash five years ago." Jane said, sadly.

Susan was instantly sorry for her remark.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean that." she said.

"No, that's okay. You didn't know. In answer to your question; we had a very good sexual relationship. Probably much better than most could ever dream of. That's one of the things I miss most about him." Jane said.

"It must be hard on you." Susan said.

"Oh, I get by. At this point I understand sex well enough to be able to live without it ... mostly. As you probably know, there are things us girls can do to cope with our desires." Jane said.

"Not that I know of. But I don't really know what I've missed. I haven't had sex yet." Susan said, shyly.

"That's nothing to be ashamed of. There can only be one first time. I don't blame you a bit for being selective. That's everybody's personal choice.

"But besides that, sex isn't just as simple as everybody thinks it is. I see a broader definition of it. We all indulge in sex everyday. It's the pleasurable body contact between two people. It can be as simple as shaking hands with a stranger, or a simple caress between friends. It doesn't have to have any connection with putting a penis into a vagina. That's a very narrow interpretation of it, which I think ignores the majority of what goes on between two people. If that's all two people have, then I think that's kind of sad, because it can be so much more." Jane said.

Susan was confused by this. But it made her think about their hand shake earlier. She had enjoyed the touch of the woman's hand in her own. But the implications of that made her feel uncomfortable. She didn't know how to respond, so she remained silent, looking at the deck of the porch.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable. It's just a subject that I'm very passionate about. So I have a tendency to get carried away when I start talking." Jane said.

"No, that's okay. I just didn't realize that it was that complicated. I guess I just don't understand." Susan said, still uncomfortable.

"Well, tell you what. If you every have any questions about it, I'd be happy to listen to you. I'll explain what I can. But don't ever be ashamed because you don't understand something that you've never experienced. Inexperience isn't the same thing as being dumb. Not asking; now that's dumb." Jane said.

"Yeah, I guess so. But ... it's kind of hard talking about sex." Susan said, blushing.

"Not at all. Sex is easy to talk about. What's hard is talking about it with those who's whole purpose in discussing it is to present their moral belief's for you to share, whether or not you do.

"Fact is that you and I have been talking about it for the past several minutes, and I don't find it the least bit hard. And you -while you may feel temporarily uncomfortable talking about such things with someone you just met- still managed to tell me that you were a virgin and that your folks both share an enjoyable sexual relationship." Jane said.

Susan blushed. Jane took the opportunity to refill their glasses. While Susan was looking elsewhere, she also took the opportunity to glance at her watch. She only had a few minutes left before Susan's bus arrived. But she had made very good progress for their first meeting.

"You said that there were other ways for a girl to cope with her desires. What did you mean by that?" Susan asked, seemingly out of the blue.

"I'll be happy to explain that, next time as I think I see your bus coming. In the mean time there's something you can do to help you understand my answer." Jane said.

"What's that?" Susan asked, standing and polishing off her lemonade.

Jane held out her hand and Susan moved to shake it. Jane held on to it with both hers while she talked.

"Starting right now until next time we meet, write down every time someone touches you. Write how it felt and how it affected you. Be honest with yourself. Okay?" Jane said, releasing her hand.

"Sure, Okay. I can do that." Susan said, starting to move towards the gate.

"I think that you'll be surprised how often it occurs and how it affects you, if you're really honest with yourself." Jane said.

"I will be. Thanks for the lemonade. I'd better go." Susan said, stepping off the porch.

"You're welcome. Nice talking with you. Have a good day tomorrow." Jane said.

"Thanks. Nice talking to you too. Bye." Susan said, running out and flagging the bus.

Jane watched her retreat. After talking with the girl, she felt an even stronger attraction to her. Susan jumped on the bus and waved back from the step before the door closed. Jane waved back.

Susan found a seat on the bus. Even though it was mostly empty, she chose a seat toward the back. She felt a curious tingling excitement inside herself. She stared out the window for a bit, then took out a notebook and started writing.

Jane gathered up the glasses and the picture and stepped inside. It was gloriously cooler inside. Her whole purpose in sitting outside had been to make first contact with the young blonde. She carted the glasses and picture into the kitchen, then headed for the bath, stripping her clothes off as she walked. Her hands began to caress her body as she exposed it.

A long session with the hand shower partially diminished her desire. Afterwards she lay nude atop her bed softly stroking her body as she cooled down.

Jane's physical dimensions were not all that different from the young blondes. She was five foot eight inches tall. Weighing in between one hundred thirty and one hundred thirty five pounds. There just wasn't any fat on her body. Her breasts were a large C-cup. Perfectly shaped. The various segments of her nipples being clearly delineated by protrusion distance. They were dark brown in color.

Jane was a natural blonde, but there was no evidence of this fact. Her pubic area was cleanly shaved and regularly maintained. There was no feeling of stubble to detract from the illusion she had no pubic hair. The area was as smooth and sleek as her legs and underarms. Her face had high cheekbones with striking, deep-set blue eyes. Her lips full and soft. Her nose narrow with a slight tilt at the end. Atop her head was a golden mane of silky fine hair, usually kept in a French braid because she kept it much longer than the usual fashion. It was just too good a tool to sacrifice to the whims of fashion. She had once driven her previous lover to orgasm by carefully dragging her hair over her body.