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It was a topic that had never been raised at home. He had not even thought to ask about it. He wondered what his mother would say if he asked her about him. Would it upset her? He did not want to do that, but now that he had given voice to the thought, his curiosity was provoked. Why had he never talked to his mother about it before?Mrs. Harrison stood to write the homework assignment on the board. Her calf-length skirt swayed back and forth, and several body parts quivered as she wrote. As Jake felt the ambient lust level rise once again, he realized that a reliable source of knowledge about sex might be jiggling delightfully right in front of his eyes.Mrs. Harrison was the best-looking teacher in the school. She looked to be maybe thirty years old. She dressed elegantly, as befitted the wife of one of the city’s leading lights. Her husband was in construction or something like that. Jake had seen pictures of them in the newspaper. He was older and gray-haired but handsome.Mrs.. Well, it wasn’t the Beverly Wilshire, few places were, but it’d do. We showered and dressed quickly so we could meet Rob in the lobby. A few blocks down the road, we crossed over the I-215 and into the parking lot of a large bar that vibrated from the music inside. There was only one problem. I’d forgotten my ID back at the motel. I begged the door guy to let me in, the same way I did when I was 16. I batted my lashes and talked real sweet. It didn’t work. Damn California hard-asses. “Sorry, guys,” I said for the third time as we walked back to the motel. “We can just run in and grab it and come right back.” I thought it was silly but neither one of them had been willing to let me run back to the motel by myself just to grab my damned ID. They had both insisted on walking back with me. “I’m going to run in here,” Rob said as we passed a small restaurant/bar next to the motel, “and grab us a round while you get your ID.” Sure enough, when we returned, Rob was sitting on the deck with.
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