Interview With the BimboChapter 6 Crystal Heights
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ONCE I STARTED, it didn’t take me long to list my top three reasons to hate college. I hated the boring classes where I had to sit without thinking for hours. I hated having so much pointless homework. And I surprised myself when I finally said, “I’m lonely. I have a lover. Two. But I don’t have any friends.”
When we were done, the water was tepid and Lissa stood and offered me her hand as we got out of the Jacuzzi. I watched the water drip off her body and was drawn to the course it took off the ends of her hard nipples and the flow between her breasts that ran straight down her stomach and into her bare slit. When she reached to hand me a towel she noticed that I’d started to get hard. She grinned.
She gave my cock a little tweak and said, “We need some dinner and you need to get started on your homework.” We toweled off and Lissa put on a robe while I pulled my sweats on.
I sat on a stool at the breakfast bar and opened my computer to start writing. Lissa started moving around the kitchen and I thought how motherly she seemed at the moment. I could imagine her making dinner while her two boys sat at the counter coloring. I realized how truly sweet a woman she was.
“Where are your kids?” I asked.
“Jack and I have shared custody. He’s offered to keep them more of the time while I’m training.”
“You still get along well with your ex?”
“We’re good friends. He’s a great father to the boys. He realized before I did that I jumped into marriage and a family before I was ready. He’s been very supportive. I had savings from modeling and I ended up with this house clear and free. It’s a little easier raising children when there are two parents involved. Now work on your paper. I’m not going to talk while I’m making dinner.”
Dinner was great. She cooked pork chops with braised red cabbage and fennel. Until my few dates with Melody and time at Lissa’s house the past couple of weeks, I’d eaten about every meal since September in the college cafeteria. This was absolutely nothing like it. She served me half a glass of cold chardonnay to have with the meal, but told me I couldn’t have any more until I’d finished my presentation.
That was another surprise. Aside from glancing up to see Lissa’s graceful form beneath the robe moving about the kitchen, I felt less distracted from getting my work done than anywhere at school. I knew most of the material, though I had to look up which grades of cotton duck were no longer in use before I figured out why there were only nine instead of thirteen. Lissa had given me the password for her WiFi and it was actually faster than what I had at school.
Each student was assigned an artists’ material. We would give a presentation with a handout for the class. Doc Henredon says we each learn something well and share our knowledge with the rest of the class. I figure it keeps him from having to print handouts himself. And to think that for this class I paid a $100 materials fee.
I finished about eight o’clock. I gave the presentation to Lissa and she just said, “I had no idea!” Then she started to hand me another glass of wine. She held it just out of reach. “Any other assignments due tomorrow or Friday?” When I shook my head she handed me the glass. We sat companionably on the sofa for a few minutes. I glanced over at her and noticed she had allowed her robe to come loose. She wasn’t technically exposing much, but the fact that I could see the curve of her breast through the gap and a long bit of thigh below the belt caused a stirring in my groin. Damn, she was beautiful. I reached toward her.
She let me put my arm around her and leaned against me.
“Do I have your attention now?” she asked. “Can we talk without an explosion?” I was suitably chagrined. I knew that I had to make this right with Lissa.
“I’m sorry for acting like an ass this afternoon, Lissa. I really fucked things up, didn’t I? I hope that at least you’ll forgive me even if they withdraw my scholarship offer.”
“Well, they might have withdrawn the offer if they hadn’t been forewarned about the possibility.”
“Who warned them?”
“Who do you think went to the college and asked to authorize you to play?”
“My god, Lissa! Did you... ? Oh god, I’m sorry. I just was so ... No. I won’t go there. There’s no excuse. I’m such an idiot. I’m so sorry. Shit!”
“That’s a good start. Now come here and I’ll show you the next step.” She pulled my head toward her and softly kissed me. When she started, her lips were barely touching mine and we just brushed back and forth. As we kissed, she allowed a little more pressure, but her lips, though soft, did not part. It didn’t grow into a passionate kiss, but I felt more love in that minute that our lips were together than I could ever remember feeling from just a kiss. She pulled back and smiled at me. She turned her head and released the pressure on the back of my neck while continuing to pet my hair and leaned against me.
“You listed three things you hate about your college experience and three things you love. Most people would say that’s a good balance if it weren’t for the items on the list. The things you love are all reasonable. Who wouldn’t love sex? Painting is the thing that is nearest and dearest to you. And one of the best defenses against depression is exercise. In fact, it’s why I took up racquetball.”
“What?”
“After my divorce three years ago, I was a depressed single mom with nowhere to turn. My therapist suggested I take up jogging. One week and I said, ‘fuck this.’ I wanted to beat something. Tennis is too slow. I chose racquetball. In three years I was a national champion. But I can’t tell you how many hours I spent on that court. A lot more than you do now,” she said.
“Wow! I had no idea. You seem so ... together.”
“I’m better. But sex, painting, and racquetball aren’t enough to combat boredom, stress, and loneliness. We have to see what we can do about that. First, you say the classes are boring. Well, that might be out of our reach for this semester. We can’t go around replacing all your classes and instructors. From my experience, having one class you love out of five isn’t a bad ratio. I remember one semester where I couldn’t stand a single one of my classes.”
“What did you do?”
“I withdrew before the first ten days of the quarter deadline, pled a family emergency, and reenrolled in the fall.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Yeah. I didn’t have any scholarships and wasn’t on a professional program like yours. Let’s table that one and move to number two. Too much pointless homework equals lots of stress. How much time do you spend on the class you just worked on? It took you about two hours to do that project and you don’t have anything else due this week.”
“Yeah, but I’m on call for that stupid mural project all weekend and I have an Art History paper due on Monday, plus midterms. I won’t have a chance to work on it or study till Sunday night.”
“Except you could work on it tonight and tomorrow night.”
“I suppose. But that means ... I ... we ... ummmm.”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. After I finish playing mother hen and counselor for a while, I’ve got a game of lover in mind. Just be patient. There are some things I want as much as you do.” She emphasized her point by returning to our kiss. We just savored each other’s lips for about five minutes. My wee little pecker was beginning to stretch his muscle ... or whatever it’s called. “This can be very relaxing, you know?”
Charlize
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