Fisher of Men

by Phoebe Alexander

  Leah's friend Cindy Trent had come to her rescue by stomping on Kyle's sneakered foot as hard as she could. “Leave her alone, Jerkface!” she added as Kyle choked back tears of pain and stumbled off to rejoin the pack of ninth grade boys gathered on the basketball court.

  It was prom night her junior year that her willpower was truly put to the test. Her date, Mark Elliott, was a handsome, if not slightly nerdy senior with his own car. He also had a full ride to a small, private liberal arts college where he planned to continue studying the oboe with the aspiration of professional musicianship. He was the type of kid who was quiet in a group setting, but when he and Leah were alone, they'd embark upon all manner of fascinating conversations. And, unbeknownst to anyone, he was quite imaginative when it came to things of a carnal nature. He was bold and aggressive too.

  A few weeks prior to prom, he'd taken Leah parking on the other side of a cornfield, far off the paved road where anyone might see them. Her parents thought she was at the late movie. The couple had scrambled into his backseat with their lusty breaths steaming up all the windows of his 1990 Ford Tempo. As he pressed his weight against her body, she could feel his erection stabbing into her bare thigh even through his khaki pants. He'd pulled her skirt up and balancing with one knee on the seat and one foot on the floorboard, he inched his long, thin finger toward her sex, sliding it under the fabric of her panties where it met the crevice of her thigh.

  She was so shocked, she bolted upright, hitting her head on the car door. The back of her head was instantly throbbing, but the impact had the effect of knocking the sense back into her. “Not now,” she had whispered, her voice hiding in the depths of her throat. “Let's wait till prom.”

  He'd sighed but nodded chivalrously. But when prom night arrived, he clearly hadn't forgotten her promise. This time in the back of his Tempo he stripped her down to just her bra and panties and rendered himself completely naked. And this time when he lowered himself onto her body, it was his rock hard manhood pressed directly against her trembling flesh, no material separating them save for the flimsy triangle of her thin cotton panties.

  “I want you so bad, Leah,” he'd breathed into her ear, the hot words searing into her like flaming embers. She felt her body responding to the deepness of his voice which rose from a place of desperation, of urgency and need. Her pelvis pushed up against him, her hips trying to resist the desire to move so that her trembling sex could press against his hardness. His mouth ventured south from her ear and she felt his teeth graze against the tender flesh where her neck met her shoulder. Her hips no longer under her control, she involuntarily shifted to reposition him in such a way that if not for her chastity-saving panties the tip of his cock would be perfectly in line with her labia.

  She grinded against him, feeling the pressure building behind that dampened cotton triangle covering her virginal sex. He was thrusting into the fabric barrier and grasping her pert B-cup breasts in his hands as his mouth continued to work its way across her collarbone from one shoulder to the other. She felt like she might explode as she did sometimes late at night when her fingers journeyed down to the slippery slit between her legs, searching for that hard, swollen button of pleasure she had discovered quite by accident when she was a little girl. And then, just thinking of those self-induced waves of ecstasy, the explosion previously building was now inevitable.

  She felt her body tense and then release, sending spasms from her pelvis radiating throughout her body. She was sure Mark felt it because suddenly his body shuddered against her. In tandem with a groan rising from deep within his chest, the evidence of his own climax soaked into her panties and trickled down her thigh.

  She remembered thinking on the way home that night: that didn't count, right? He didn't penetrate me, so I'm still a virgin, right? Then she started to wonder if any of his semen had seeped through her panties and inside her vagina. For the next two weeks until her period arrived, she was on pins and needles, fervently praying that she hadn't gotten pregnant. She had never been so relieved to feel cramps gripping her lower abdomen and witness that familiar stain of blood. She felt like she had dodged a bullet even though she still wasn't sure if she had actually done anything wrong.

  It was her freshman year of college that she finally succumbed to her lust. At the time she reconciled her guilt by rationalizing that she was in love and that she was going to marry fellow Cornell student William Garrison. Their first time was a fumbling, awkward mess as he was similarly inexperienced. It will get better, she had consoled herself. And it did for a while, but there was a distinct plateau. This is the way it's supposed to be, she theorized. This is why everyone disses 'married sex' all the time. Right? She lamented not having a girlfriend she could ask if it was normal to feel like sex was bland and unfulfilling just a year into the relationship. And that's when she met Aimee.

  Aimee was blunt and matter-of-fact in a way that Leah had never experienced in her small Midwestern town where tact ruled and euphemisms were tossed about like resolutions on New Year’s Day. Leah had been taught to spare feelings, to sugar-coat, to conceal her true thoughts to protect others. Aimee hailed from Philadelphia, the product of a brash Italian family and an entirely different upbringing. It was a miracle that the two women could not only tolerate each other but grew to love and appreciate each other’s differences as well. Leah remembered one of the first promises Aimee made to her when they were paired together for a group project: “I may not tell you what you want to hear, but I will always be honest.”

  It was a revelation to Leah. Complete honesty and transparency enabled a trust that she had never been able to achieve in a relationship, platonic or romantic. And it was actually the contrast between her relationship with Aimee and her relationship with Will that gradually opened Leah's eyes to the splinters that would later tear the couple apart. And, not surprisingly, it was Aimee who was there to catch Leah when she was reeling from heartbreak. She told Leah to go out and live, to throw caution to the wind and get that man and the damage he'd done out of her system.

  Leah went on a binge. Not a drug or alcohol binge, but a sex binge. Frat parties, random hook ups with guys she met online, double dates with Aimee as her wingwoman that ended up in some dank apartment off campus or even back in her dorm room. Anything to dull the pain that Will inflicted and make her forget the way he treated her. She didn't even know all of their names. They were just disembodied penises with the sole purpose of filling the void he left, both literally and figuratively.

  But then Leah went home for Christmas break after fall classes ended. She sat in her father's church and listened to him preach about the loving God who sent His only Son to die for her sins, to offer her redemption and eternal salvation. All she had to do was repent. It was the same message she'd heard since birth, but it resonated with her in a way it never had before. Perhaps because she had been so far away from God that she could hear the Gospel with new ears. So repent she did, and she felt a peace and a clarity she hadn't ever felt before. When she returned to campus in January, Aimee immediately sensed the change in her friend, but she was accepting of the new leaf Leah had turned over.

  “Hey, you gotta do what you feel is right,” Aimee had offered her support.

  Leah didn't often reflect on the year she'd let her faith fall to the wayside. She felt she acted selfish, immature and out-of-control. She accepted the forgiveness she'd prayed for and moved on. It was a chapter of her life laid to rest and she preferred not to revisit it.

  For the rest of her undergraduate career, she refused to date and instead threw herself wholeheartedly into her studies. Shortly before graduation she met Todd Phillips. Leah wanted to embrace everything Todd embodied; he was smart, ambitious, confident, and loving. And he was a believer. This is the man God sent for me, she told herself. But there was never the physical connection that she expected to develop.

  In a year of dating, they barely made it past holding hands and kissing. Todd explained that he was courting her, w
hich, according to him, was the type of dating God ordained. She thought perhaps her disconnect was due to the promise she'd made to herself after her relationship with Will failed, the promise that she'd never let her heart get trashed again like it had by him. Leah wanted assurance that Todd would stir her passions someday. But he was so good and so right that she faithfully believed God led her to him, that he was her soulmate. But little did she know that Todd was harboring a secret that would destroy their relationship along with Leah's trust in men.

  Leah heard her beagle whimpering from her crate as she locked the door to her apartment and headed down to her Jeep. She was already running late because she'd had to clean up a mess Glory made in the hallway. She tempered her frustration with the consolation that the mess was on the tile and not the carpet, but she was still angry that the pup hadn't managed to do her business outside during their extended walk in the chilly morning air. Leah knew that Casey Fontaine was coming to meet with her promptly at 9 AM, and she did not want to be late. Ms. Fontaine did not seem like the type of woman one should trifle with.

  Casey was impeccably dressed, albeit this time a bit more conservatively than she'd been at the party. She wore a pin-striped navy single-breasted suit, the buttons done up to accentuate her hourglass figure and camouflage the girth of her midsection. Under the suit jacket peeked a scarlet satin camisole, matching her patent leather kitten heels that were adorned with delicate bows along the sides. She was sitting right outside Leah's office with another woman beside her, a statuesque platinum blonde with heavily-made up eyes, tan skin and pale frosted lips. She wore a denim skirt, brown cowboy boots and a ribbed purple sweater that stretched over her ample bosom. Leah wondered what Casey did for a living and if the purple-sweatered lady worked for her. Maybe she's an assistant of some sort?

  “Good morning, Ms. Miller!” Ms. Fontaine gushed with a sugary-sweet smile. “This is my friend, Rhonda Sillery. She's on the admin team for our charity group and helps me with event planning.” The purple-sweatered lady offered up a sideways smirk and extended her hand.

  Leah shook it and noticed Ms. Sillery's grip was a little more firm than she expected. She plastered on her professional smile and ushered the pair into her office where they took seats across from her desk. “I'm sorry I'm a little late. My puppy made a mess right as I was getting ready to leave!” Leah apologized.

  Casey erupted with a crystalline laugh. “Oh, don't apologize. We're a little early, I believe! The early bird catches the worm, isn't that right, Rhonda?” She turned to the blonde who squealed with amusement at what Leah conjectured must be an inside joke.

  Leah brushed off the joke she clearly wasn't meant to understand and pulled out her file for Casey's group. “What can I do for you today, Ms. Fontaine?”

  “Oh, please, call me Casey. Ms. Fontaine is way too formal for the type of group I'm heading up. I assume I can trust you to be discreet about my group and its members?” she asked, her perfectly arched copper-colored eyebrows raised expectantly.

  Leah smiled sincerely and nodded, Chris Sheldon's declaration about the group's purpose ringing in her ear. “I have nothing but the utmost respect for you and your group's privacy, Casey, I assure you.”

  “You have a very trustworthy face, Ms. Miller. I can tell your parents raised you right,” Ms. Fontaine proclaimed. “In any case, as you may have noticed from our last party, our group raises money and donations for various charities but at our core we're advocates for an alternative lifestyle of a...sexual nature.” Leah had expected her to whisper the “S” word but in fact she seemed to pronounce it more boldly. “I want to make sure that's not an issue for the hotel or the management because to be honest, we had some issues at our last venue.”

  “As long as your guests respect the rules of the hotel and the rights of our other guests, I can't imagine it being a problem at all,” Leah replied.

  “We were on our best behavior last month,” Rhonda finally chimed in. “What we'd like is a little...um...leeway in the ballroom since it's private.”

  Leah struggled to keep her cheeks from flushing. She had inadvertently conjured up the graphic image of a full-out orgy, a writhing pile of bodies in the middle of the ballroom floor. Captain Chris Sheldon was right in the thick of it. She cleared her throat to try to erase the mental picture. “What exactly do you mean by 'leeway?'” she requested clarification.

  “How do you feel about nudity?” Casey fired back, as if she was expecting Leah's inquiry and had a counter-question locked and loaded.

  “In the private ballroom?” Leah was stalling so she could maneuver through her options and discern what Barry would have her say. She wished she felt authoritative enough to give Ms. Fontaine a definitive yes or no, but the truth was that it needed to be discussed with her boss. She shook her head out of disappointment in herself, but realized instantly that her reaction would come across negatively to the two women.

  Rhonda uncrossed her legs and then re-crossed them, alternating the leg on top. “I thought you said she was cool,” she snickered under her breath toward Casey.

  “I said she was young,” Casey laughed, still smiling even though Leah's face was blank and her shoulders had dropped.

  “I'm not saying no,” Leah jumped to her own defense. “I just need to discuss it with Mr. Sampson, my boss. He's a pretty reasonable man. He's out today; otherwise, I'd call him in right now. Maybe you could give me a list of specific behaviors you'd like to have approved? I just don't think we have any precedent for this. I hope you understand.”

  “Oh, of course!” she exclaimed graciously, stretching her ring-clad fingers back against each other. “I didn't expect you to say 'just have at it, clothing is optional.' I know you have the monumental task of keeping everyone happy: our group, guests, staff, the managers. You seem like a very diplomatic and capable young woman, Ms. Miller, and I know you will try your best to make sure everyone's desires are granted.” The word “desires” slipped out with a possibly unintended sultry tone, as if she was used to using that term in other contexts.

  Well, I suppose I'll have to tell Barry about the purpose of the group after all, Leah realized as Casey and Rhonda wrapped up the meeting. They'd gone on to discuss the ballroom and lobby décor, the discounted room rate for Casey's group members, and the menu and drink specials. The date was set for the Christmas party and it was only two weeks away.

  As the two ladies stood up to leave, Casey looked Leah up and down from her shoulder-length strawberry blonde waves to her black pump-covered toes. “Do you rent or own, Ms. Miller?” she asked, fishing in her pocketbook for a business card.

  “Oh, I have a little apartment a couple of blocks away,” Leah replied, surprised at the forwardness, not to mention randomness, of the question.

  Casey Fontaine gently placed the glossy card into Leah's outstretched hand. She turned it over to reveal a glamorous photo of Casey with her hair elegantly coiffed as it had been the night of the party and a thick layer of retro-looking makeup. She looked like she'd stepped out of a 1950's pin-up calendar. “Casey Fontaine, specializing in commercial and residential real estate,” the card announced. “If you ever feel like house hunting,” she offered in her smooth, melodic voice. “You know, your puppy would probably love to have a nice backyard to run around in!” She winked for emphasis.

  “Oh, I have no doubt of that,” Leah agreed. “Maybe in the spring!”

  Casey nodded approvingly and shook her hand, then turned to her friend. Rhonda caught the prompt and grasped Leah's hand. “It was nice to meet you,” she said, but her words had a slight stench of insincerity wafting off them. Or maybe that's just her perfume, Leah thought with a snide laugh as she watched the two women make their way down the hallway. That was totally something Aimee would say, she realized, and then dug out her cell phone to get some pointers from her best friend about how to broach this topic of Casey's Group with Barry.

  Leah wasn't able to go home to take Glory outside at noon because she'd bee
n waylaid dealing with a staff issue. There was a bit of a squabble between the front desk manager and one of the clerks that required Leah to step in and arbitrate. She was glad she was able to get everyone calmed down, but she was worried about her pup's poor bladder exploding in her crate while she waited. Things seemed back to normal at the office and the day was brisk but sunny so Leah decided to pick up Glory and drive down to the inlet for a couple of hours. She'd stay late to make up the time later in the evening.

  Glory was barking with joy as soon as her owner's key turned in the lock. The speed at which her little tail wagged was mind-boggling, and she was so wiggly, Leah could hardly get her hooked to her leash and back out the door. She took Glory around the side of the building where she barely bothered to sniff before releasing the contents of her bladder into a grassy area just a foot or two from the sidewalk. “I bet you feel better now, Little Girl, don't you?” Instead of answering, Glory bolted to the Jeep, dragging Leah behind her. Leah got them both situated and then took off for the boardwalk.

  She parked in roughly the same spot as she had during their last venture to the southern edge of town. This time she didn't play stalker. Captain Chris Sheldon was the furthest thing from her mind as Glory eagerly pulled her in the direction of the water. Leah's black leather slingback pumps sank into the sand just off the boardwalk and she chided herself for not remembering to bring a different pair of shoes. I think it's too cold to take them off but what the hell, Leah decided, commanding Glory to sit while she slid the heels off and hooked them both under the finger of her free hand.

  The thin stockings she wore didn't begin to shield her soles from the bone-chilling shock as the sand enveloped her feet. That's when she decided she might be better off taking a brisk jog to keep the blood circulating to her toes. Glory was all for that idea and accelerated a little faster than Leah expected, taking her by surprise and causing her to tumble to her knees just as a foamy wave washed up on the shore to soak her skirt. At least it's not white, she consoled herself, trying to laugh off the situation even as the chill seeped into her flesh. As she began to scramble to her feet, she looked around to make sure no one was watching.