Karen and Margaret

Erotic fiction by Susan.

Chapter One: A Conversation

"I'm...I'm different than most women, Michael; Most women feel pain if by chance they have their cervix pressed during intercourse. For me...it's...it's erotic."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes; to be honest...I.... I find it more than...erotic; I find it extremely arousing."

"How did you discover this?"

Karen blushed. "A woman taught me."

"I sense a story here."

"Yes."

"We have all night."

"Well...all right. But we will need it." Feeling awkward, she added, "I have never told anybody before; and it was my first Lesbian experience."

Michael lay back on the bed, listening to Karen. She seemed lost in thought, immersed in memories of the past. Michael took advantage of her preoccupation to openly admire her figure as she lay next to him on the bed. Karen was 25, and just the sort of woman Michael longed for. She was Scandinavian, with high cheekbones and a model's face. Her light blonde hair fell about her; it was long and straight, and just the shade of blonde Michael adored. Karen was a bit too short to be a model, but that did not stop Michael from liking her appearance a lot.

Karen was the proverbial big-breasted blonde. She had gorgeous, full tits, and Michael was quite partial to her breasts. Michael felt Karen was big-breasted but not too big; and every time he looked at her he longed to press his face into her chest. Indeed, he could hardly get enough of just staring at her. If Karen wasn't every man's dream, she was certainly his, Michael felt.

"It all started one day when I got into a fight with my boyfriend," Karen recited, staring blankly at the ceiling. "I was in college, and so was he. He was a jerk; I think he cheated on me. I remember being furious, and feeling all men were jerks. A friend of mine wanted to cheer me up, so she took me to a café so we could chat. That's where I met Margaret."

"I don't remember feeling attracted to her initially; not that she was bad looking, she wasn't. I was twenty-one at the time and Margaret was perhaps fifteen years older; but she was still an attractive woman, by common standards. She was taller than I was, standing about five feet nine even without heels. She was a brunette, with wavy dark hair. She wore a lot of make-up, I recall, something I never have. I didn't pay much attention to her appearance when I first saw her; but her eyes caught me. She had dark brown, soulful eyes that seemed to know my thoughts. I wouldn't be surprised if I blushed when our eyes met, though I certainly had nothing to blush about, or so I consciously thought. Somehow, just having her look at me made me feel, well, naked; but I didn't feel violated, I just felt open. An interesting feeling, as I had no clue at the time how literally open I would become to her one day."

"My friend Stacy caught me looking at her. " That's Margaret Hamilton, an associate professor in the Woman's Studies Department." Then, noticing her looking back at us, my friend went on, "You ought to meet her; she likes bright students, and you are definitely one." Then, smiling, she added, "Besides, she is a Lesbian, and I hear she is hot!"

"Stop it, Stacy" I protested. "You know have a boyfriend." What I really meant was she should know I was straight.

"Had a boyfriend. And who has been sitting here telling me what a jerk he is, and how all men are unfaithful woman-chasers? Look, she is coming over!"

Sure enough, Professor Hamilton had risen from her chair and approached our table. "Hello, Stacy," she said, standing next to us. Her voice was warm, low, and melodious. If I didn't know better, I would have told myself she was coming on to us.

"Hello, Dr. Hamilton," my friend replied. "Let me introduce my friend Karen. Will you join us, Doctor?"

"Thank you." She took a seat.

Professor Margaret Hamilton sat between us, and her presence seemed regal; I immediately felt like Stacy and I were children. "I hope I am not intruding," she calmly stated.

"Not at all!" Stacy replied. "Karen here has just broken up with a man. She is feeling like all men are jerks."

"Stacy!" I exclaimed.

"Modern culture unfortunately promotes such male behavior." Dr. Hamilton said. "Fortunately women are rapidly making strides towards economic equality in the capitalist marketplace as well as in socialist systems. This naturally is giving women choices in other areas as well, as economics is the basis of freedom. Some women, however, only learn of their new choices through experiences in educational institutions, as prior to school, their upbringing limits their thinking, as it is reflective of older cultural values which are now no longer valid."

Well, maybe Stacy was right, I am a good student, as I grasped what she said. I was raised to expect to meet men, date, and have a "normal" relationship with a man, ideally leading to marriage someday and children. No doubt, my husband would earn at least as much as I did, and probably more, since I would for a time at least drop out of the workplace to have children. And, damn it, I knew she was right; I overheard guys on campus bragging about how many girls they had sex with, and who they did it with. But choices?

"Joan of Arc was executed by the English on the pretext that she committed a crime by cutting her hair and dressing like a man. Men haven't changed. Many are still afraid of women. Afraid of not being needed. Afraid that women can take their places. It is a fascinating subject, actually." Dr. Hamilton stated.

"Yes." I agreed.

" What is your major, Karen?"

"History."

"Well, stop taking those classes that focus on male-dominated political history, on the deeds of what band of crooks happened to be in charge of what piece of territory at what time, and take a look at some of the courses in social history. Like WS110."

"All right."

"Well, speaking of class, I have one right now. Please excuse me," said Dr. Hamilton

"Bye, Doctor," said Stacy.

"Bye, Stacy; bye Karen" Dr. Hamilton said, and left.

"Told you she would like you," said Stacy to me after Dr. Hamilton left. "She doesn't usually invite students to take her classes. Take it. She likes blondes, too." Stacy giggled.

"Oh? How come you know so much about what she likes?"

"I am not a guy. I don't need to brag" Stacy replied, still giggling.

I looked at her. I knew my friend Stacy was at least bi-sexual; and yes, Stacy never bragged; I didn't know who she had slept with. Stacy with Dr. Hamilton? If so, they had played it very low-key; I couldn't tell from how they acted just now.

"Look, pre-registration is starting already soon. Take her class, she is very interesting, I promise you will learn something from her," Stacy told me. So I did. I signed up. My life was never the same after that.

Coming soon: Chapter Two: Lessons from Dr. Hamilton