Call Donna

You fumble through your purse for your phone. She never gave you her number, but a quick Google search and you have it. The phone rings three times before she answers.

"Hello," she says. "Why are you calling me, Rebecca?"

"Hey, Donna," you try to hide the slur, "I was thinking about today. I was wondering, uh, I mean..."

"Out with it," she says.

"I need another lesson," you say. "Tonight."

Silence on the other end.

"Please," you add. She breathes deeply before speaking.

"Alright. Come to my house. I live at 788 Terrace Court." You start to thank her, but she interrupts. "I want you to pick some things up at the store on your way. Bring a large container of baby oil, a 25-foot nylon rope, a package of clothespins and a roll of plastic painter's sheeting. They'll have it all at the Ultra Mart."

"Yes," you say, afraid of why she wants all those things, but even more afraid of spending the night alone. With four gin and tonics you also know you shouldn't be driving, but the potent tonic of depression and lust propels you to do stupid things.

"One more thing," pausing dramatically. "Come naked."

Less than an hour later and you are uncomfortably stripping off your clothing in the front seat of your car. You're parked outside Donna's modest house on Terrace Court. The shopping bag full of all the things she wanted on the seat beside you. You finally get your skirt and thong off and you are completely naked, waiting for a part in the traffic to dash up to her house. Finally, there are no cars coming, no more excuses not to go to the door, and you quickly get out and start to quickly walk from the sidewalk to her front door.

A college-age kid on a bike rides out from an alleyway, sees you naked and approaching Donna's door, and wrecks his bike into a pair of trashcans. You hurry up to Donna's door and ring the bell.

The older blonde answers. Her face is done up in heavy makeup. She is dressed in a sheer purple robe with a wide strip of ruffles along the front to provide a bit of modesty. You can glimpse her pendulous breasts and erect bullets of her nipples beneath the material. She smiles.

"Your tits look great," she says, leaning against the door, drinking in your naked body.

"Can I come in?" you ask.

She waits a few seconds. A car approaches, its headlights sweeping across you. Fear of discovery prickles your arms. Donna finally relents and lets you inside. It's an older house, with plush carpeting from the 1980s and an ugly fireplace. Donna doesn't give you a tour, she just takes you to up the narrow staircase to her bedroom. All of the furniture has been pushed to one side of the room, creating a space about six by ten feet. There is a painting of pigs on the wall and little pig toys and figurines decorate the nightstand.

"Rebecca," she says, walking in a slow circle around you. "I'm glad you realized you needed more of my help. Eager students are my favorite kind. Now, are you ready to listen and do as I say?"

"Yes," you say, bowing your head.

"Good." She takes a step back. "I want you to begin by covering the floor with the plastic. Be very thorough."

She stands in the doorway and watches you work. Unrolling the painter's plastic to completely cover the floor, then draping it over the bed, is work.

You're sweating and a little out of breath by the time you're finished. Donna disappears right as you're finishing up and returns with a glass bottle of Coke from the refrigerator. The cap snaps with carbonation. She steps into the room, the plastic crinkling beneath her bare feet. Still feeling the effects of the gin, you could sure use a drink, but Donna lazily sips the Coke as she surveys your work.

"Good enough," she says. "Now go take a shower, you're covered in sweat and you still smell like Ted."

Her shower is a standing stall. You lather your breasts and between your legs and down the crack of your ass with her lavender-scented body wash. The gin is beginning to lose its hold on you and you wonder, a bit afraid, what you've got yourself into. She has some herbal shampoo that smells a little off, but you apply it to your hair to get the sweat out.