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Well, today is another gray and rainy day in this town. Kind of makes you think that life is nothing but a succession of shadows and gloom, dark clouds and chilly winds, interspersed with the promise of a little sunshine now and then to maintain enough of a fiction so everyone keeps going. Gray and cold. Old and gray. Wet and chilly. That’s how the day looks. That’s how I feel. That’s what this day makes me feel, as if I’m immersed in reality.

Good thing that I still can dream and fly. And it’s always harder not to wander away. To warmer places. To sunnier places. To places in which I can be whoever I dream of being. To places where I can meet the woman I want at will.

If I look through the window I can see her walking. Funny thing. I haven’t seen her face, ever, and yet here she is: smiling, saying nice things in a voice that’s caressing me, full of sweet overtones.

“Hi. How are you? You look as if you need a break. Would you like to have a cup of coffee with me? Well, we can go to this coffee shop, close to my place. So, what are we waiting for? Let’s go”

And all of a sudden, we are neither in this time, nor in this town. We’re somewhere in the middle of a dream, looking at each other, sipping cappuccino and talking of our lives. We’re frozen in time. Words coming and going without a finish line. Words coming and going, dancing with the music of our eyes, following the rhythm of a more intimate connection. Here we are: the first man and the first woman, repeated ad infinitum. The first blood and the first heartbeat. Always the same and yet always new.

Her face is changing with the slow movement of the moon. Her words are wrapping me with the laces of rainbow. Her eyelashes are hypnotic. Her mouth is more than tempting and this is not a coffee place, this is a forest and she’s casting her spell. I look but I want to see. I see but I want to dream. I dream but I want to have. Her words are falling and they sweep me.

I’ve played the game of seduction many times, but every new look, every promise of flesh anew, every new whisper of the garden of wantonness washes out my old sins. It’s me, fresh, again. It’s my skin without memories, without owners, without repeats. I’m a virgin one more time.

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Jackie’s mother greeted her with a smile and a letter when she returned home from high school in late January. It was Jackie’s sophomore year, and she had applied for a scholarship to study abroad. All through school, Jackie had studied Portuguese until it became her life. She hurriedly ripped the envelope and pulled out the letter. Sure enough! She’d been accepted in the exchange program study in France. She would be staying with a Brazilian family, named Macros outside of Salvador.

As she would be leaving June 23, Jackie prepared carefully for her trip, trying to remember the little things necessary in a foreign country. She also studied about Salvador, learning it was formerly the capitol Brazil and its people were extremely friendly.

At the airport when her mother hugged her goodbye, Jackie cried but looked forward eagerly to meet the new land. Her heart beat with anticipation of what would greet her.

The next morning, Jackie stepped out of the lumbering jet the welcome of a mild morning. The weather was a bit cloudy, but the air was extremely humid, causing her clothes to hug her body closely. Once through customs, she eagerly scanned the lobby for the Macros family. They had written and promised to meet her. A small dark-skinned lady approached her and said, “Jackie?” Jackie smiled and nodded her head in affirmation.

They met up with the rest of the family, and entered into a large Chevrolet. Soon they were home, and Jackie had met and talked with her new relatives. Her Portuguese was a bit choppy, but she found she could communicate well. She shared her room with her “sister,” Roselia. Roselia was also dark skinned, with shoulder-length hair. Her teeth were pearly white, always obvious because of her smile. They became close friends, talking about each other’s country.

As each week went by, Jackie became more acquainted and familiar with her surroundings. The people were extremely friendly. Jackie found the boys especially fun, and she and Roselia drew many whistles when shopping downtown.

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The BBS lovers wrote back and forth to each other, until they both had enough of writing letters. Both were married but not to each other. They lived over 1500 miles apart.

They both wrote to each other asking if they could meet.

They finally came to an agreement to meet halfway. He landed at his halfway point on Friday late afternoon, waiting for his lover’s plane to land. When it was time for the plane to land he got all nervous and excited. He heard them announce on the loudspeaker that the plane was coming in. He stood there very impatient looking for someone with a red rose pinned in her hair, she told him that she would have one in her hair.

She finally came walking off the plane with a big smile on her face. He walked up to her and introduced himself to her.

She was very excited when she saw him, her body tingled all over. They talked for a little bit and decided to get a room at a hotel. They checked in, and took the bags to the room, freshened up a little and decided to go get something to eat.

They went to a small place in town, ate and talked for about 3 hours. They were both getting tired and they went back to the hotel. He went in and took a shower while she sat nervously waiting for her turn in the shower. She was going to join him but didn’t want to seem to pushy. When he came out she went in and took her shower. She got done and went into the room, he was sitting on the bed with a towel around his waist.

She had on a skimpy nightgown that you could partially see through. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. She sat down on the edge of the bed and started brushing her long brown hair.

He moved toward her and took the brush out of her hand and brushed her hair for her. He told her how beautiful she looked and bent over her and started kissing her neck. She got chills all over her body when he did that.

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The rain lashed it’s cool touch across my face as I stared at the number on the front door. Anxiety and arousal lined my stomach with lead as I hesitated on her doorstep. I remembered when I posted my advertisement to Usenet last week, eager to meet a woman with whom I could explore my most erotic virgin fantasies. I’d always enjoyed honest sex but I’d never dared allow my repressed desires to surface. But now I had done it! I had advertised and now I was here, to meet a like-minded woman for the first time! My mouth was dry and I felt afraid as I pressed the doorbell. The harsh shriek of a buzzer made me jolt out of my reverie. The woman I was to meet was called Kelly and she seemed to be a lovely person via e-mail but she was obviously more experienced than I.

From behind the wooden door I could hear the rhythmic thumping of feet on a staircase. Through the opaque glass of the door I could see a female shape moving towards me. A sudden guilty image of my girlfriend passed through my mind. I loved my girlfriend but she was not interested in anything other than the normal, pedestrian sex that we’re familiar with. The lock on the door retracted with a metallic scrape and a smile greeted my frightened and wet visage.

“Hello,” she grinned, “You must be Jon.” I returned her smile nervously.

“Yes,” I answered pathetically. She was definitely attractive. She was not classically good-looking but well-formed and pretty. I felt a warm surge of shame as I thought how I must appear. My long hair was wet and straggly and the cold weather would not have flattered my proud nose, either! Kelly did not seem to notice and she ushered me inside.

She led me by my hand up to her bedroom and sat me down on the bed. I just sat there at first, watching her as I began to relax. She retrieved a towel from the bathroom and started to rub my hair dry. I could smell her scent as she stood over me.

“You’re a bit nervous aren’t you” she said softly.

“Yes,” I swallowed. Her left breast brushed against my cheek as she dried my hair. “I’m sorry, Kelly. You know I haven’t done this before.”

“Don’t worry,” she answered, “I like you.” My arousal at her and the promise of what was to come was rapidly overcoming my diminishing nerves. As she finished off my hair, I swept a glance across her bedside table. There was a tube of lubricant, a silk headscarf, a pair of handcuffs and a blindfold.

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When I met Jon he was just past chubby, melted down into a lithe boy who was starting to show signs of man. He was a young man the way a colt is part gangly animal and part magical apparition. He wore his awkwardness like a beetle wears its shell, to cover up the soft inside.

He was my highschool friend. He sometimes flirted with me, just to practice. I watched him hesitating on the cusp of growing up. If he had been more self-assured I would have been smitten, and if I had been any more self-assured I’d have taken him — easy, the way his hormones were trembling and threatening to spill over, like water from a glass. But I was not the one he chose for his first affair.

Mr. White had just been hired to teach at the highschool. He was on a three-year contract, and that was all the longer he would stay, because teachers like him are never hired back. He must have interviewed in his one regular suit — he’d never have gotten the job dressed the way he usually did, in old, old clothes, antique three-piece suits and wire-rimmed glasses and a watch and chain. He was hired to teach drama, of course — that’s probably why they let him slip by — and English.

He looked English, actually, like a headmaster at a shabby third cousin of Eton. He had bright, lavishly-lashed eyes and a mustache that curled. No one in our remote little town had never seen anything like him. He was like a time traveler who had taken a very wrong stop. He could not have been expected to have anything in common with a bunch of ranchers’ sons and daughters. Nevertheless a few of us had determined that we were not going to be hicks. We were over him like flies on honey.

Jon was skittish around Mr. White from the start, manic even. For about a week he joined the other boys, raving about what a fruit and a faggot the new teacher was. But by the end of the second week of school he had arranged to join three extracurricular clubs — the Thespians, the school paper, and a modern novel study group — so he could be near him.

On any given day Jon could be found before class, after class, and often at lunch in Mr.White’s room. I knew that because I was in the habit of dropping by at those times myself. Of all the students who clustered around the new teacher, I was the closest to understanding just why he seemed so odd. He was so completely different from any other man I’d ever known, in his eccentricity so sweet and strange, that of course I began cruising him almost right away. I was just learning that having sex with a person could teach me things about them and about myself, and I was sure Mr. White was a wealth of things I wanted to know.

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