Eenie, Meenie, Miney...

Rachel Madison

The prison guard came into the infirmary and closed the door behind him. Rachel smiled at him and he shyly looked away. Rachel knew he had a bit of a crush on her; most of the guards did, if for no other reason than there were few attractive women working at the Western Correctional Center.

He cleared his throat. "I got a patient here to see you," he said. Then his face took on a concerned expression. "He's new at the center, and he has a reputation as a bit of a gangbanger. Do you want me to stay with him while you see him?" he asked a bit eagerly.

Rachel smiled again. "Thank you, but that won't be necessary. I know how to handle his type."

"Whatever you say, Nurse Madison," he said, and departed. A minute later he was back, this time accompanied by a Latino wearing prison garb and carrying a folder. "Sit down," the guard ordered roughly, "and don't give Nurse Madison any trouble or you'll be dealing with me, comprende?"

The prisoner ignored him, choosing to focus on the nurse in front of him.

After the guard had left, Rachel locked the door, then took the folder from the youth and quickly scanned it. "This says that your name is Hector Hernandez and that you're nineteen years old. Is that correct?"

Hernandez gave her a long slow look. "Si, pretty lady."

Rachel ignored his stare and his impertinence. "I'm Nurse Madison, and I'll be monitoring your health while you're here at Western." She proceeded to ask the young man a series of questions relating to his medical history. Hernandez mumbled his answers, obviously paying more attention to the nurse's figure than her questions.

"This says you have juvenile diabetes and that you take insulin every day. Is that correct, Hector?" When he nodded she continued, "Very well, let's get that taken care of right now." She went to the small refrigerator and returned with a syringe. "Please lift up the bottom of your shirt so I can get to your waist."

"Si, Corazon. Or I could take it off so you could see my whole chest. . ."

"That won't be necessary," she said, and swiftly gave him the insulin injection. When she had disposed of the needle, she turned around and crossed her arms, allowing her face to slip into a stern expression. "Mr. Hernandez, you're going to have to adjust your attitude if you want to get along here at Western. I am not your sweetheart, I'm a registered nurse. You will address me as Nurse Madison and you will show me respect in all ways, do you understand?"

He grinned insolently at her. "You can take care of me, but I could take even better care of you if you'd let me. I am very good at making the chicas happy, you know what I mean?" With that, he stuck his tongue out and licked his lips lasciviously.

To his surprise, the nurse gave him a tight grin. "Mr. Hernandez, I just gave you a shot of insulin. Are you sure it was the correct dosage? Are you sure it was even insulin?"

The smile disappeared from Hector's lips.

"What happens the next time you have a headache and want some aspirin?" Rachel continued. "Or what about when it's time for your flu shot? What if I fail to void all the air out of the hypodermic? Do you know what happens when a large air bubble hits your heart?"

The prisoner's expression had grown sullen, and he took a step back from Rachel.

Now the nurse leaned toward him, her face twisted with anger and something else he couldn't read. "I can fuck up your life so fast and in so many ways you can't imagine. So if you don't want to become just another sad tale about a prisoner who died here at the prison, I suggest you treat me with total respect. Do you understand?"

The youth wouldn't look at her. "Si, Senora" he said.

"In English," she demanded.

"Yes," he said.

"Yes, what?" she pressed.

He looked up at her in confusion, then let his head fall as comprehension came. "Yes, ma'am. Yes, Nurse Madison."

A triumphant smile swept over her face. "Very well then, Mr. Hernandez. Now why don't you ask the guard to escort you back to your cell so I can do my paperwork?"

When the guard came to retrieve the prisoner, he paused to ask, "Did everything go okay, Nurse Madison?"

She smiled sweetly at him. "Oh, yes, he was a perfect gentleman. He did everything I wanted - they always do."

Tom Maddux

There was a noise outside his cubicle, and Tom automatically tensed as Harry Williams came barging in. Tom hated noise, he hated interruptions, and most of all he hated Harry, who was everything Tom wasn't. Where Tom was quiet and thoughtful, Harry was an extrovert who reminded Tom of the proverbial bull in the china shop. Where Tom was a team player who strove for consensus, Harry was a natural leader whom others seemed to follow instinctively. Worst of all, where Harry's career seemed to be on the rise, Tom feared that his own had stalled and topped out.

As Harry rattled on good-naturedly about the latest office gossip, Tom felt as though he were under siege, yet there seemed no way to get the big loudmouth out of his office without being rude, something Tom was loathe to do.

Just then, Harry reached across the desk and grabbed Tom's framed picture of Cecilia and himself at their wedding reception. "Is that your wife?" Harry boomed. "She's a knockout. You sure were punching above your weight when you landed her!" he exclaimed.

"Give that back!" Tom yelled and snatched the frame from Harry's hands. "Leave that alone!" Harry was so shocked at Tom's reaction that he backpedaled out the door, mumbling something about an appointment.

Tom slumped back down in his chair, still holding the wedding photo in his hands. He felt ashamed at his outburst, and he felt even worse about the stab of jealousy that had shot through him, causing him to lose control. The truth was that in his heart of hearts Tom felt Harry was right: Cece was indeed out of his league. When he was honest with himself, he had to admit that he had never expected her to accept his proposal. But she'd surprised him, and he'd thought himself the luckiest man in the world at the time. He'd never considered that the price for having such an attractive wife was the constant gnawing fear that filled him every time another man looked at her. He believed his wife was faithful, but that didn't turn off the pangs of jealousy. Sometimes he thought it would drive him crazy.

Vincent Madison

Vince liked to think of his workday as having two halves: outside and inside. In the morning he roamed the halls of John F. Kennedy Junior High School, greeting students at the door as they straggled in, dropping by classrooms to see and be seen, roaming the halls between classes to help ensure order and even helping out in the cafeteria. He spent the afternoons mostly working in his office. There he reviewed his mail, attended to the ever-present paperwork, met with parents and held conferences with any teachers or students as needed.

He'd been following this routine ever since he came to JFK Junior High and it suited him like a glove. It also seemed to suit the faculty and parents: they consistently gave Vince high ratings in his evaluations. In fact, his ratings were so good that the word on the street suggested that Vince's next position might be a significant step up in the educational administration.

In the middle of the Friday afternoon before Spring Break, he stepped out from behind the massive desk in his office and stuck his head out the doorway. Spying his secretary at her desk, he asked, "What else have we got on the schedule this afternoon, Mary?" The older woman had to move her paperwork aside to check her desktop calendar; she refused to keep appointments on the computer.

"The rest of the afternoon is pretty clear. Your only appointment is with Mrs. Maddux - you asked her to see you before she left for the day," his secretary reminded him.

"Sounds good," he said casually. "Listen, Mary, if you want to knock off a little early to get started on Spring Break, its fine by me."

"Thank you, Mr. Madison, I think I'll take you up on that. I've been wanting to get started on my garden."

Cece Maddux

Cece loved teaching sixth grade. The boys and girls were rapidly advancing toward their teenage years but they were still youngsters in so many ways. Most had not yet begun to adopt that sullen demeanor that characterizes teenaged relations with adults; instead, they were eager to learn, still eager to please their teacher.

Of course, she thought, some of the girls were developing physically more quickly than others, and some of the boys were beginning to notice. She had already sent notes home to some parents to suggest purchasing bras for their daughters, and she had had to speak with one her students in private about sitting at her desk a bit more modestly while wearing a skirt.

As usual, the boys in her class lagged behind the girls, particularly in their emotional development. But it always intrigued Cece to watch their attitudes toward their female classmates begin to change as the year went on. She bet that quite a few of them would actually ask one of the girls to go to the Spring dance rather than go stag and stand against the walls all evening.

As she hurried down the hall to Principal Madison's office, she felt a twinge of excitement, and she observed to herself that sixth graders weren't the only ones feeling new and unexpected emotions.

When she reached the principal's office, she noticed that Mr. Madison's secretary had already left for the day. She heard him speak to her and saw him motion to her to come in. "Close the door, please, Mrs. Maddux," he said, and when she turned back after having done so, suddenly he was standing right there. Then his arms were around her, urgently crushing her body to his, and his lips were devouring hers. After a few moments they slid down her face and began to rain kisses on her ear, her neck and her shoulder. Only then did she realize that she was panting.

Finally he pulled back far enough to stare at her. "God, Cece, I thought the day would never be over!" Then he was kissing her again until she realized that she was about to lose control. Frantically she pushed at him until he stopped his onslaught. "No, Vince, stop! We can't do this here - there are still people in the building. Besides, we've got all next week together at the education convention."

Reluctantly he let her go and stepped back to perch on the corner of his desk. "You're right," he said, "but that doesn't make it any easier. I've been thinking about you ever since the last time . . ."

She blushed. "I know - I haven't been able to get you off my mind either." Then, when she saw him stand up and move toward her again, she hastened on. "But we have to be patient and wait. If anyone here saw or heard anything, you know what that would mean. And what if something got back to Tom or Rachel?"

An involuntary shudder went through him at the mention of their spouses. "Oh, God, don't even talk about that. It would be so bad . . ." Then he shook his head and his face took on a look of determination. "Alright, I can be good for now, but that just means you're really in for it when I get you alone in the convention hotel."

Cece felt a thrill run through her and suddenly realized her panties were wet. Nevertheless, she forced herself to maintain control. "Now, go home to your wife and be extra sweet to her so she won't get suspicious," she told him. Then an impish look crossed her face. "Now, here's a little something so you won't entirely forget about me while you're with her." With that she stepped over and kissed him again, and this time it would have been apparent to an observer that there was more than lust involved.

Vince

When Vince walked into the den on Saturday evening, he spotted he wife staring out the window, her arms crossed. "What is it?" he asked, but she didn't reply. He walked over to her and asked, "Is everything okay, Rachel?"

"No," she replied in a tearful voice.

"What is it?" he asked in concern. "What's happened?"

She turned to him and he could see her eyes were red and swollen. "It's my sister," she said in a choked voice. "She just called me - she's had a relapse."

Vince gave a mental sigh and led his wife over to the couch to comfort her. Rachel's sister was a lost soul: she'd dropped out of college when her parents' marriage had ended, and had slipped into depression, drugs and alcohol. Rachel and Vince had tried numerous times to get her into a treatment program, but Megan never completed even one of them. It was as though her parent's divorce had broken something in Megan that couldn't be repaired. For the last few years she'd been living on the streets.

"What did she want this time?" he asked.

"Money, of course," Rachel said, her head bowed.

"You can't send her any," he said quickly. "You know what the doctor said."

"I know: we shouldn't enable her. But it just tears me up to hear the suffering in her voice. I wish I could do something to fix her."

Vince put his arm around his wife. "Of course, but nothing we do will help until she reaches the point where she can admit that she has a problem and is willing to do something about it on her own."

Suddenly Rachel looked up at Vince and her eyes were wild. "You know what the worst thing is? I'm afraid that whatever is wrong with Megan is inside me too, just waiting for something to set it off."

"No, Rachel, don't think that way. You're not like her. She has a disease, a mental illness - you don't! You're a strong, capable woman. You've got to remember that."

His wife just sat there, crying quietly into her hands.

Vince searched desperately for something to get her mind off her sister's plight. "Listen, why don't we go out and get some dinner somewhere. It's so nice maybe we could find a place where we could eat on a terrace."

Rachel quickly shook her head. "I'm not very hungry, Vince. I think I'll just go lie down. Can you take care of your own dinner?"

When she had left the room, Vince shook his head in frustration. He felt sorry for Megan, of course, but in his mind she was a lost cause. Nevertheless, she could still devastate her sister just by the sound of her voice alone. "I wish I could keep her away from Rachel somehow."

As he thought about his prospects for the evening, Vince had mixed emotions. He'd planned on making love to Rachel to reassure her in advance of his departure tomorrow for the education convention. But he knew that Rachel was now unlikely to get out of bed before morning, and he also knew from past experience that she'd be in a depressed state when she arose. The good news for him was that he wouldn't feel so guilty pretending she was Cece while they made love. The bad news was that his session with Cece that afternoon had really stoked his fires, and he'd been hoping to get a little sexual relief.

"Damn, what a time for Megan to call," he thought as he fished out his cellphone to place a take-out order for some dinner.

Cece

"I really wish you wouldn't go to that convention," Tom said as Cece was brushing her teeth. "It'll be a whole week and you won't know anybody there."

A finger of fear ran down her spine, and she hastily rinsed out her mouth so she could speak. "We've been over this time and time again, honey," she said soothingly. "This is a great chance for me to meet a lot of people and learn what's going on in other school systems. It'll be really good for my professional development."

"I know," he whined, "but a whole week . . ."

She assumed a tone of mock exasperation. "You travel all the time for your work, honey."

"Yes, but that's not the same. And anyway, I'm going to be lonely while you're gone."

Cece knew that what he didn't want to admit was that he was jealous of the men she was likely to meet at the convention and how she might respond to them. "He won't have to worry about me being seduced by some strange man," she thought to herself.

But Tom's jealous nature was not something Cece wanted to grow out of hand, and she knew just how to divert him. In a sultry tone of voice, she asked, "Will you really be all lonely for me while I'm gone, baby?"

When he nodded, she slowly began to raise her nightgown, pulling it over her head until she was standing before him in nothing but her bikini panties. "Is this what you're going to be lonely for, baby?"

When he eagerly nodded again, she walked across the bedroom like a model on a catwalk until she stood between his knees. She smiled at him suggestively, then crouched down until she was kneeling at his feet. "I guess I better give you something to tide you over till I get back," she husked, and then reached into the fly of his pajamas. In a moment she had extracted his rapidly hardening cock and brought it to her lips. At the first touch of her tongue, Tom's head fell back and his eyes closed in ecstasy. "Oh, yes!" he groaned.

Cece quickly shifted into full blowjob mode, lavishing his cock with her lips and tongue while simultaneously using her circled fingers to stroke him up and down. In no time at all she could taste his precum.

Tom's groans grew more frequent. After a few minutes he reached down and tried to pull her up onto the bed beside him. "That's so good, Cece, but I want to make you feel good too," he gasped.

To his surprise she resisted, pushing on his chest until he flopped back on the bed. "Not this time. This is all about you tonight, a little special treatment for my baby before his wife goes out of town." With that she plunged her mouth down until his cock was pressing against the back of her throat. When she swallowed, Tom cried out as though the top of his head would explode.

Quickly Cece pulled back and began licking and kissing the head while using both her hands to stroke the rest of his slippery cock. In short order Tom could no longer resist the sensations she was producing. His hips began to buck repeatedly as he shot load after load of his orgasm into his wife's mouth.

As he lay on the bed gasping for air, Cece put her head down beside his hip for a moment and held him. Then she stood up quickly, smiled at him and hurried to the bathroom to spit out his ejaculate and brush her teeth again. By the time she returned to their bed, he was almost asleep, a smile on his lips. "Mission accomplished," she thought with satisfaction as she turned out the light.

When Cece awoke on Sunday morning, she rolled over to look at the bedside clock and saw that it was only 5:30 a.m. She wanted to sleep another hour but she was way too excited to go back to bed. Instead, she slipped downstairs and began to make breakfast. She went ahead and ate hers while setting Tom's aside so it would stay warm. Her plan was to wait until he was having his breakfast to pack her bags. She had made a special purchase earlier in the week that she would prefer Tom not see.

The smell of bacon must have made its way to the second floor because Tom appeared in the doorway just as Cece was finishing her meal. "You're up early," he observed. "You must really be eager to get off to the convention."

Inwardly, Cece groaned, hoping her husband wouldn't resume his complaining, but outwardly she smiled as she got up to hug him. "I really don't know why I woke up so early, baby." She gave him a knowing smile. "Maybe it was that big injection of vitamins you gave me last night."

Her response clearly pleased Tom, and his normal good humor returned as Cece scrambled to serve him his breakfast. She sat with him for a minute, finishing her coffee, then rose nonchalantly. "As long as I'm up, I might as well go pack and get my shower," she said casually, and then headed for the stairs, trying not to hurry.

Once in the bedroom she hurriedly packed her bags, being careful to put her special purchase in the bottom of her make-up bag where Tom would be unlikely to find it if he went looking. Once she had finished she laid out a modest outfit to wear on the drive to the convention. On top of her skirt and blouse she placed a pair of granny panties and a heavy white bra. "Those ought to calm his suspicions," she thought with satisfaction.