The Mentor Ch. 02

They talked freely and easily, mostly of trivial things like classmates and current events. Eve drank a second glass and then a third, relishing the warmth it brought to her body. She wondered momentarily if she'd had too much, too quickly.

They decided to put the food aside for now and get to work. Eve listened as David described his story, a coming-of-age tale of a boy's rebellion and self-discovery. She offered astute advice and David seemed to appreciate it.

When it came time to discuss Eve's story, she was feeling a little tipsy from the wine. She was also unsure how to even talk about her story, and the assignment, given her choice to make it so explicitly sexual. Rather than try to make something up, she decided to come clean and tell the truth. She relayed the basic outline of the story: Cyn, a young dancer cast as Juliet falls for Romeo but lacks the courage to tell him. Instead, she loses him to another dancer, who happens to be her roommate. She rehearses passionate scenes with him day after day, longing to be with him, but cannot act on her feelings.

"So, Professor Michaels has been on me about deepening Cyn's character. You know, make her three-dimensional, show her inner life. He thinks I'm timid as a writer. A prude."

"Are you?"

"No," she said, a little louder than she'd wanted. "I mean, maybe. But I don't want to be. Anyway, the assignment he gave me was to take one sentence from my story and use it as a starting point to expand on Eve's inner life."

"What's the sentence?"

"She sought refuge in solitude, and in solitary pleasures," she said with a flourish.

David thought a moment.

"Interesting. What's it mean?"

Eve laughed.

"Well, that's the point. Michaels says it's too ambiguous. That I need to dramatize it."

David nodded.

"Well, what did you mean when you wrote it?"

Eve looked out the window.

"That's the problem. It's hard to explain. Well, not hard to explain but ... hard for me to explain."

"Well...just say it."

Eve sighed.

"It means she retreats to a fantasy life and imagines the two of them making love while she ... gets herself off."

David stared into space.

"Whoa."

"See, I told you."

"No, no. It's good. I mean, it's realistic. It's what might really happen."

Eve turned to him.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. I mean that's what I did...or that's what a lot of people do."

David cocked his head slightly. Eve wondered if he'd noticed her slip.

"So you started to ... expand on it?"

"Yeah, this afternoon."

"Can I read it?"

Eve felt her face reddening.

"Uh..."

"Only if you're comfortable. I mean, I just want to help you."

"I don't have much. I mean, I wrote something but it's not finished. I haven't even printed it out yet."

"So print it out."

"It's kind of...personal."

"Listen, Eve, you can trust me. I'm nothing if not discreet."

She looked at him intently.

"You promise not to breathe a word?"

"I promise. Really."

He looked at her sincerely.

"OK," she said, finally. "I'll read it to you."

She got up from the bed and went to her desk, sitting on a stool in front of her laptop. She wiggled her index finger on the trackpad and the screen came to life.

She read the passage to him. Word for word. From beginning to end. He listened without a sound.

Cyn lay in the bed, staring at the ceiling. She replayed the rehearsal over and over in her mind. The director was urging her to let go. "This scene is all about passion!" he'd shouted. She was standing on the stage, covered only in a sheet; Kyle stood next to her, bare-chested, dressed only in tights. Exasperated, the director ended the rehearsal for the night and left the two dancers on their own. Kyle turned to her, sympathetically. "Don't worry," he said softly. "We'll just keep practicing until we work it out."

Then, they were alone, bathed in a single spotlight. "If this scene is all about passion," Kyle said simply, "then let's find the passion." He smiled at her and looked so beautiful, illuminated in the light. She felt heat building deep inside her body.

He moved behind her. She felt his hands touching her arms, her face. A jolt of electricity coursed through her body. She leaned back, against his hard chest. He held her, touching her. She felt him pressing against her back. She felt his growing hardness.

She reached back with one hand, the other still grasping the sheet, and ran her fingers over his muscled thighs. She let her hand glide to his buttocks, so firm and tight. She pulled him to her, feeling his hardness pressing through the thin fabric of his tights. She dropped the sheet, revealing her bare breasts.

His fingers grazed her silky skin until they found her breasts. Her hands reached up to caress his face. Her breasts raised up, the nipples reaching out in the cool air. He held her breasts from behind, caressing them. He rubbed her nipples, causing them to stand up and harden. He reached down, to her stomach, and lower still, to find the wet folds between her legs. His fingers pressed into her.

As she felt his fingers inside her, she surrendered to the advancing ecstasy. Such were the images that flashed through Cyn's mind, even as her own fingers explored the warm wetness between her legs.

When she'd finished, she looked up at him. He was staring into space, thinking.

"So, that's it. That's what I wrote."

"I think it's good," he said quietly. "Really good."

"Thanks."

She turned back to face the screen.

"Except...Michaels is on me about using specifics, details that reveal character. This is so...general. Generic. I can hear his voice saying 'you're hiding, Eve.'"

"Are you?"

"I don't know. Maybe. A little. I honestly don't know how to be specific about this. I just don't have the words. I'm supposed to 'show, not tell' but I'm at a loss about how to do it."

They sat in silence for a moment. Then, David spoke up.

"Have you heard of sense memory?"

"Sense memory," Eve replied. "What's that?"

"You know I was an actor, right? Well there's this thing called 'sense memory.' It's from Stanislavsky."

"OK."

"It's when an actor accesses memories in order to recreate the feelings they're trying to perform on stage. Let's say you have a scene where you need to be sad. You might remember a funeral you attended. The feeling of the dirt in your hands. The smell of lilies. The sound of people crying."

"Like, method acting?"

"Yeah, it's used in method acting. It's a technique. A skill. I used it as an actor and now I use it as a writer."

"And it works?"

"It does for me. I find I write more persuasively about an experience if I can actually feel what the character is feeling."

Eve thought about this for a moment.

"So, in my case, I just need to put myself in a position to feel what she's feeling and then I can write about it. Well, I did and it didn't work."

"What do you mean?"

"You know. I did what Cyn did and still I can't seem to remember it, or describe it. I don't know. I just suck."

She was getting genuinely upset.

"No, you don't suck. Like anything it takes practice. Look, I have an idea. I think it'll help you."

"Help me? She looked at him sideways, onto him.

"Listen, David, I like you but I hardly even know you."

He looked at her with that sincere look again.

"I'm not saying we make love, I'm talking about helping you as a writer."

"What do you have in mind," she asked skeptically.

"OK. When an actor can't access the memory, can't make it real and bring it into the performance, you're supposed to bring that experience into the moment, so you can feel it right then and there."

"During the performance?"

"No, during the rehearsal process. You re-create the memory you want to access. In rehearsal."

"I still don't get it. How would I do that?"

He looked at her with eyebrows raised.

"I can show you," he said quietly. "Do you want me to?"

She looked at him a moment. She thought about the disappointment in Professor Michaels' face as she once again failed to live up to his expectations. She thought about how blocked she felt.

"Sure. Why not."

"OK. Now, if you change your mind at any point, just tell me."

He stood up and moved behind her, kneeling.

"Now, face your computer and open a new document. Good. Now, you're going to write whatever it is you're feeling. Whatever it is. Just type it."

Eve put her fingers on the keyboard.

"Now, don't try and think too much. Just relax and concentrate on what you're feeling in the moment. Go ahead."

Eve shrugged and started to type.

Anticipation. Nervous. Bit scared.

"OK, good. Now try and relax. I'm just going to help you feel the things you want to describe. Just close your eyes and write what you feel. OK?"

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

"OK."

David moved in close behind her. Gently, he placed his two hands on her shoulders and slowly ran them down her arms. Eve typed.

Waiting. Breathless. Tingly. Goosebumps.

He ran his hands along her thighs, stroking slowly towards her knees. He was so close, she could feel his chest barely touching her back, feel his breath on her neck. He lifted his hands so they hovered a centimeter from her breasts.

Breath on my neck. Smell of cologne. Face feels warm.

Slowly, gently, he let the tips of his fingers brush over her breasts. Eve flinched, opening her eyes.

"Shhhh. Just concentrate. I'm only trying to help you," he whispered in her ear.

She closed her eyes again. He brushed his hands over her breasts, making circles with his fingers.

Surprise. Electricity. Tingly heat. Heart beating fast.

He ran his index finger along the opening of her blouse, gently grazing her skin.

Laser touch. Searing. Exciting. Anticipation.

He reached around with both arms and began to unfasten the buttons of her blouse. He pulled her blouse open, revealing her large breasts supported by a lacy pushup bra. He slowly ran his fingers along the edges of the cup, touching her full, luscious breasts. He let the fingertips slide beneath the sheer fabric.

Tingly. Fluttery pleasure. Heart pounding. Hungry. Wanting more.

With both hands, he slowly pulled the straps of her bra over her shoulders, pulling her blouse off with it. He reached back, unfastening it, and pulled it off her arms. Her breasts were high-sitting, gorgeous melons, with pink, upturned nipples.

Cool. Breeze on my skin. Shivery. Yet hot. Inside.

He lightly ran his fingers over her breasts, sliding them along the tender undersides. Ever so lightly, he slid them over her nipples. She gasped and licked her lips.

Thrilling. Sparks. Goosebumps. Breathless. Electricity.

He was pressed up against her back, his arms embracing her from behind. He started to massage her breasts with his hands, roll the nipples in his palms. She let out a little moan.

Jolts of pleasure. Electrifying. Wetness. Pulsing. Between my legs.

He brushed his fingers back and forth over her nipples, causing them to stand up. He took them between his thumb and index finger, giving each a little tweak. Eve moaned and squirmed in her chair. She leaned back against his chest, giving herself over to the sensation.

"Keep writing. Keep feeling and writing."

Nipples so sensitive. Like a fire burning. Intoxicating. So wet now. Breathless.

He slid one hand down over her stomach to the button which fastened her jeans.

"Is this okay?" he whispered, his mouth inches from her ear.

Eve nodded her head vigorously, biting her lip. He unsnapped the button and the zipper opened halfway.

"Keep writing," he whispered.

He slowly ran his hand down the front, sliding his fingers under her thong. She spread her legs ever so slightly.

Pulse throbbing. Between my legs. Holding breath. Waiting. Wanting.......

His fingers combed through the tuft of hair until they found the crease below. Her mouth was open, her head tilted back. He let his middle finger slide between her lips. She was wet beyond words. She somehow found the presence of mind to continue typing.

Mmmmm...Yes. Trembling. Breathtaking. Feels amazing. Deeper!

He pushed his long finger all the way inside her eliciting another moan. Then, he slowly pulled it out. He caressed her labial lips, massaging them lightly, and plunged into her again. She arched her back and cried out.

Sparks. Electricity. Through my body. Throbbing deep inside. Legs on fire.

Again, he pulled his finger out and led it on its circuitous route around her pussy. This time, he pushed two fingers inside her. His other hand squeezed her breast. She trembled, and moaned again.

Blood pounding. Panting. Hunger. Longing to be filled. Want fingers inside me. Touching my clit.

He ran his fingers the length of her pussy and let them slide over her clit. He pulled back the hood and let the pad of his finger tip brush against the soft flesh. She gasped and her body shuddered.

Yes! There. Right there. Heat. Tingling. Pleasure growing. Craving. More.

He studied her face, watching her every reaction. He rubbed her clit lightly, like a marble rolling in oil. He caressed the length of her pussy and then sunk his fingers deep in her hole. She rocked her hips involuntarily, her body heaving.

Sooooooooo good. So hot. Throbbing. Heart pounding. More.

Up and down, in and out his fingers expertly toyed with her pussy. Each time he played with her clit and each time she moaned aloud. Her nipples stood out like small grapes between his fingers.

Feel it coming. Burning heat. Electric pulses. Tidal wave. Going to come now. Rub my clit. Rub it!

He did as he was told. He reached around her with both arms, one hand spreading her pussy, the other finding her now engorged clit. He began rubbing it fast, side to side, like a vibrator. She was gasping, her breasts were heaving, her nipples big and hard.

Yes. Fire. Frenzy. Pulsing. Overwhelming. More!

She spread her legs wider and lifted her pelvis. She needed him to finish her off. He slid two fingers deep into her while he continued rubbing her clit.

Yessssssssssss. Commmmmmmmmmming. Sooooooooo gooooooooooooooood

Her head was tilted back, her mouth open. Her body shuddered and twitched. He felt her pussy contracting, impossibly wet. Still, he vibrated her clit. Still, she moaned with pleasure. The typing had long stopped. She was lost in the throes of her complete, unbridled pleasure.

As she came down from her orgasm, he held her with one hand across her breasts, while the other caressed her face.

"Keep writing," he whispered.

Her fingers found the keyboard. He brought his glistening fingers to her nose and let her breathe in the scent.

Dizzy. Still throbbing. Pungent. So sexy

He brought his index finger to her mouth, running it over her full, bee-stung lips. Gently, he teased his finger between her lips. She slowly parted them and took his digit into her mouth, caressing it with her tongue.

Salty sweetness. Taste of pleasure.

He removed his finger from her mouth, and unwrapped his arm from around her chest. She opened her eyes, turning towards him.

"That was amazing! I felt it and put it into words. It was incredible."

"You were incredible. You were so...brave."

She thought about Professor Michael's admonition that writers must be, above all, brave. She smiled.

"Thank you. Thank you so much."

She looked back at the document of her orgasm.

"This is going to make my story so vivid. So real."

She turned back to him.

"How am I ever going to make it up to you?"

David looked down, and actually seemed to blush.

"No problem."

She glanced down and could clearly see the head of his cock stretching above the waist of his jeans. He had a raging hard on.

"David."

"Yes," he said, a bit breathless.

"David, I want to return the favor. Let's switch places."

"Really?"

"Yes," she said, urgently. "I want YOU to write now."

She stood up and turned the stool to him.

"C'mon. You know you want to."

David took a seat and turned to face the computer. Eve knelt beside him.

"That's it. Now I want you to write whatever it is you're feeling. Go ahead."

David put his fingers on the keyboard. He was already in a heightened state of arousal. He began clicking the keys.

So hard. So tight. Excited.

She reached down and unfastened the button of his jeans. She could see half his cock rising out of his briefs.

"Here, help me get these off."

She unzipped his pants and, with his help, pulled them over his hips. The briefs followed, revealing a long, flesh-colored cock with a bulbous, circumcised head. She pulled off his t-shirt.

"You're not typing..." she said in a sing-song voice.

She positioned herself behind him. Her hard nipples lightly brushed against his back. His whole body shook. He began to type again.

So hot. Electricity. Growing.

Reaching around him, she glided her hands down his arms, feeling the contours of his muscles. Then, with a feather touch, gently grazed the tops of his thighs down to his knees. Then, her fingers found their way up his inner thighs. Straight towards his cock.

Getting bigger. Blood rushing. Can't wait.

She ran her fingers all around his crotch, letting the tips barely graze his skin, teasing him. She felt the tuft of hair below his navel and tickled his inner thighs.

Tingling. Tickling. Anticipation. Sweet agony.

Finally, she let her fingers graze the silky soft skin of his cock, laying against his thigh. He gasped and his body twitched.

Shuddering. So good. Throbbing. Heart pounding.

She traced the length of his long shaft, then felt the contours of the head. Her fingers traced the rim and slid over the velvety tip.

Pulsating. Thrilling. Wanting. Needing.

Her hand gently grasped his cock and raised it upwards. It was long, and lengthening by the minute. She began to slowly stroke it, using two hands.

Yes. Feed the hunger. Each stroke like heaven.

She was pulling the skin downward, making the head surge up and swell. She used her thumb and forefinger to make an "O" and slid it over the tip and head. He moaned loudly.

So good. Like sliding inside you. More.

Eve did it again, eliciting another moan. Then again. He was squirming on the stool now. She began to stroke him hand over hand, so that the head slid through her hands, again and again.

Ohhhhhhhhhhh nothing like it. So close...

She slowed her stroking and tickled the tender underside of the tip. He shuddered. A tiny flood of pre-cum oozed out of the tip. With her finger, she rubbed the creamy fluid around the tip and over the head. His body shook with pleasure.

My god . So goooooood. Love itttttttttt

She raised her finger to his lips, just as he had done. Slowly his lips parted. She inserted her cum-covered fingertip into his mouth. He licked it, tasting himself.

Warm. Sweet. Creamy.

She took her finger and brought it to her own mouth, just inches from his ear, and audibly sucked it clean with a smack. His cock swelled in her hand.

So hot.

"Mmmmm...that tastes too good," she whispered. "I need some more of that."

She swiveled him on the stool and was face to face with the longest, hardest erection she'd seen in a long time. She held it upright and stared into his dark brown eyes. Keeping her gaze trained on his, she slowly lowered her mouth on to the tip. Her lips parted and she took the swollen head into her mouth. Her tongue swept over the tip and around the head, tasting him, and sending shivers through his body.

She maintained eye contact and slowly took him deeper into her mouth, and out again. Her tongue worked feverishly, swirling over the head and rim, causing his body to writhe and shudder. She took him deep into her throat, sliding her full lips over his hard shaft.