That night, as she lay in her bed, Jo Ann thought about being rid of the unwanted membrane within her. Though there had been pain, it had been well worth every moment of it, because the thrilling desire she had enjoyed had been incredible. The dean had been unbelievable, and so, after, she had told him how she had found out about him and Marilyn Ease. She realized that by telling him, she was also cutting him out of her life again, because he was the kind of man who never used any female more than once, no matter how good she was. In reality, it wasn't a bad idea… and she thought about doing the same thing, in reverse. Never letting herself get involved more than once with any one man seemed like a great idea.
But who? Who should be the next male?
Obviously, after using a man like Dean Evan Joseph, the thought of using her father was totally out of the question. She wanted a lean, hard, handsome man with the stamina of youth. Sex was extremely important, and she didn't want to waste her time fucking with just anyone.
The next day, Tuesday, as she wandered around the school from class to class, she allowed her eyes to linger on the various seniors there. By now, a few of them ought to be fairly seasoned fuckers. The only remaining question was, which one?
Her first choice was a big blond Nordic type by the name of Ollie Pederson. She watched the tall, muscle bound senior whenever she had the opportunity, and was considering approaching him by the end of the day. But her last class on Tuesday was gym, and she arrived earlier than the other girls to suit up. Because she was earlier, she got there before the previous gym class, the senior girls, completely let out. As a result, while she was in one locker aisle, getting into her gym clothes, she overheard girls in the next aisle talking, and Ollie Pederson was the subject. It turned out that Ollie had been playing around with one too many of the older girls, and had contracted a social disease. The girls giggled about no one wanting anything more to do with Ollie. So Jo Ann prudently crossed Ollie off her list.
She continued listening, and learned there were only two or three really discreet males among the seniors. Two of them, Ralph Phillips and Frank Holcomb, were going steady. The third one, Chris Weller, didn't have any kind of steady girl, but the other girls avoided him because he had this bad habit of getting drunk.
Well drunkenness might have been bad as far as the other girls were concerned, but as far as Jo Ann was concerned, it was perfect. After all, in spite of the fact that she was a very beautiful girl, no senior would want to fool around with her when sober if only because there was so much action his own age and he didn't have to worry about statutory rape. Drunkenness, according to the other girls, had made Chris occasionally "go soft."
Jo Ann was certain she had just the cure for that. There was nothing like young, fresh meat to get a man's cock stiffened all over again, even if he was drunk.
So following her gym class, Jo Ann quietly went in search of Chris Weller and found him hanging around outside a bar about three blocks from the school, guzzling beer. He was making lewd gestures at some passing girls, all of whom ignored him in spite of his reputation as a great cocksman at one time. Chris really didn't expect to get much action on Tuesdays, and laughed as the girls avoided him. He was half-pissed anyway, and soon intended being totally potted.
When Jo Ann sauntered by, ostensibly on her way to a candy store, Chris jeered at her as well, figuring she was such young fluff, he would never get anywhere with her, anyway. He didn't even want to.
He was therefore surprised when the lovely young blonde, instead of turning and hurrying away, or gasping, or making some kind of retort, merely stood there and asked, "Does that make you feel good, Chris?"
He looked at her, bleary-eyed for the moment, then asked, "Do I know you, kid?"
"I know you," she replied. "That's all that matters. Do you really get a big kick out of guzzling all that swill and then chasing the girls away? From what I've heard about you… "
"Hey… shhhhhh… " he insisted, putting a finger to his lips as he staggered over to her. "Nice young thing like yerself ain't s'posed to talk 'bout things like that. Now c'mon, get outta here."
"Shame on you," she continued, looking at his rugged face under the dark-brown mop of hair. "Look at you. You have the build of an athlete, and you're letting it all turn soft because all you want to do is drink and make fun of people."
"Yeah, well what the hell else is there t'do when I'm on the verge of flunkin' my lit' courses. Hell! It ain't like I'm some kinda girl who can go to Dr. Joseph an'… " then he shut up, realizing he was saying too much.
"Instead of getting drunk over it, why don't you get some tutoring help and pass the course," she insisted.
"Yeah? Well all the tutors're taken. I don't know no one can help me get through that lousy course."
"I can," she replied.
"Aw, you're fulla… you-know-what," he shrugged.
"Suppose I prove it to you," she insisted. "Are you too drunk to think straight or… "
"Hey, I ain't that soused," he snapped. "Awright, you prove you can help me, kid, and I'll do anything you want."
"Well, the street is hardly the place for us to talk about literature," she insisted.
He stopped for a moment, nodded, and said, "Yeah, you're right. Look, my house ain't far from here. You wanna come there with me?"
He was leering at her as if daring her to come home with him.
"All right," she said coolly, surprising him.
They walked to his house, which was about eight blocks away. He staggered some of the time, but managed to get there without having to lean on Jo Ann, and because of the walk, his head began clearing a little. Once they got there, he took out his key and let them into the living room of the small one-storey home.
He led her into a small room with a desk in it, pulled a chair beside the one behind the desk, and grandly gestured for her to sit in it. She did so, and he took out a sheet of paper from his own set of schoolbooks, showing her his term assignment. He had to read and review any three of Dickens's books. The reviews had to be three pages each, all typewritten.
"I can," he shrugged. "But who the hell wants to read something as boring as Dickens? I mean, if he'd wanted me to read Mickey Spillane, that'd be somethin' else. But Dickens?"
"I read a lot of Dickens's books," she told him. "Suppose I recite, while you type."
He looked at her, nodded, took his portable typewriter, and put it on the desk. He opened it, slipped a sheet of paper inside, and said, "Okay, smartass little girl, go ahead."
So Jo Ann began, and by the time four o'clock rolled around, they had completed a review of Nicholas Nickelby.
"I have to leave now," she told him. "I have to go home. But if you want, I'll come back tomorrow, and we'll do another book."
Unable to believe his good luck, Chris nodded, saying, "Yeh, yeh, sure thing, kid."
"Remember," she told him, "You said anything I want."
"Sure thing," he nodded, "just so long as it's not my soul, huh?"
"I'd probably do a lot better with your soul than you're doing with it right now," she told him. "But don't worry, I don't want your soul." I want your body.
The following day, Jo Ann came directly to Chris's home after school, and she did a review of Oliver Twist for him. On Thursday she did A Tale Of Two Cities for him.
"Okay, kid," he said to her. "What d'you want?"
"What time do you get out of school tomorrow?" she asked.
"Friday? I have the last period off, so I'm out by ten after two."
"Fine," she nodded. "I'll meet you here at that time, because I have that period off as well, and I'll tell you then what it is I want."
"This sounds real mysterious," he said, still looking at her as if she were a kid rather than a maturing young lady.
"I don't think you'll dislike it."
"Okay, tomorrow, about two-fifteen, right here."