WAKING THE MAIDEN by Jean Roberta.

"Too bad there's no sex in those old books you teach," grinned my friend Woody. I had taught a dreaded, required composition class at the tech school where she taught Industrial Arts until I had landed the job of my choice, teaching English lit at the university. Woody knew as much about literature as I knew about carpentry, but we always found something to talk about over coffee.

"There is," I told her. "You just have to look for it." We were alone in my office, and the sparkle in her clear blue eyes showed how much she enjoyed my company.

"You got a favorite scene?" she prompted.

I noticed the way Woody's short chestnut-brown hair stood up in a rooster-tail at the back. I thought of it as a hair erection. I also noticed her wiry arms, so useful for so many activities. She had never lifted me off the floor, but considering that I was lightweight and she was able-bodied, I thought this wouldn't be much of a strain for her.

If she ever wanted that kind of a workout, of course.

"Oh yes," I confessed. "In the novel I'm teaching now. It's Victorian. The heroine works for a dashing rogue who tells her to meet him in the evening, but she's worn out from farm work and uh --."

"Go on," she told me. I had walked right into a trap. I could keep my cool with my students, but not with such a sexy butch. And I couldn't stop what I had started.

I took a deep breath. "She falls asleep in the woods, and he finds her there and he does his thing." I could feel sweat popping up on my skin.

Woody looked amused. I knew she had figured me out, and I could feel my face growing redder. "He fucks her in her sleep?" she asked gently. She stroked my cheek, and I didn't stop her.

"Yep," I gulped. "It's not really described, but it's a turning-point in the plot. She was a virgin before, and when she wakes up, she's 'ruined' as they called it then. It's so intense. It changes her life."

Woody chuckled. "You wanta be ravished, fair maiden?" she asked, pulling me into her arms. "You never had it before?"

"Not with you," I muttered. "And from what I've heard, you're quite a rogue with women."

As if to live up to her reputation, Woody pressed her lips to mine and slipped her hot tongue between my teeth. I couldn't hold back a moan. I jumped when she pressed a strong hand between my legs and rubbed the center seam of my pants. I could feel my pussy drooling.

Woody looked me in the eyes. "Someone wants her cherry popped," she snickered. She ran a hand through my long blonde hair. My scalp tingled. "Would you like me to spend the night with you, Tess?"

"Well, yeah," I agreed. I wasn't sure how she planned to act out my fantasy. "You mean you're going to--?"

"Watch you when you can't watch me back," she promised. "Take advantage of you when you're defenseless. Make you mine. Change your life, I hope."

I wasn't sure I could handle the seducer I had unleashed. "You really expect me to fall asleep while you're with me?" I squawked.

"Sure," she answered. "Didn't you tell me how you get after too much wine? So we'll drink. Do you have a frilly nightgown?"

This was too much. "Yes, but --."

"That's what you'll wear," she ordered. "I'll be over at midnight. Don't take any naps before then. And don't touch yourself. Don't even think any dirty thoughts. I want you pure." She kissed me goodbye. "Later, my pretty," she smirked. Before I could get my head around the scene she was planning, she strode away without a backward glance.

At home, I was jumpy with anticipation. I fed my cat, made a pasta salad for myself, graded student essays, straightened the living room and the bedroom, did a load of laundry and took a shower to the beat of vintage rock on the stereo. I switched to Irish folk music, thinking it was more suited to the mood of the evening. I felt like the village idiot.

At the witching hour, Woody pressed my buzzer. I opened the door in my white cotton nightgown, hoping she liked it. My bare skin felt very sensitive underneath. I shamelessly pushed myself against her, and she pushed me away, then slapped my butt. "Not now, brazen hussy," she warned me. "Behave yourself."

She showed me her bottle of wine, and I brought her a corkscrew. "You should be grateful," she told me. "I'm letting you stay up late and drink wine. But if you can't control yourself, I'll take away your grownup privileges."

She hardly touched her wine as she kept refilling my glass. I squeezed my legs together as she held my hand without touching me anywhere else.

We talked about her classes and my classes. I pulled her hand to one of my trembling breasts, wanting to her to feel the hard nipple. "Please, Woody," I begged.

"That's it," she snapped. "You can't behave like a lady, so you're going straight to bed. To sleep. And you have to keep your hands where I can see them." At her command, I led the way to my bedroom. Walking behind me, she pulled up my nightgown and gave me a brisk spank. I squealed, so she gave me two more and told me to keep going.

Woody pulled down the bedcovers. I didn't have to be told to get in, and to lie on my back. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a black satin blindfold with cheesy eyelashes painted in it, then fastened it around my eyes. "You need to sleep, little one," she reminded me. She stroked my forehead. "Sleep," she repeated. Her voice was calm, but I could smell the musk from her armpits, mixed with the smell of my own pussy.

I hadn't thought I could do it, but I gradually felt myself drifting off. It had been a long day, and the tingle in my clit couldn't keep me from sliding into my own world of sensuous dreams.

I felt her weight on my whole body before I could open my eyes. Her pubic bone was pressing into my slit in rhythm, calling out my hunger. She held my arms down as though she really thought I would try to fight her off.

My eyes fluttered open, freed from the blindfold. She was giving me a sly, smug, lascivious look, clearly determined to play her role to the hilt. I knew how to react. "What are you doing?" I whispered. My nightgown was bunched above my waist. The bedcovers were on the floor, beyond my reach.

"Deflowering you," she bragged, sliding a hand over my startled belly. Two of her fingers lid into my wet cunt and explored their new territory.

"Oh!" I gasped. "How could you?"

Woody answered with an evil chuckle, working up a firm, catchy fucking rhythm. "You had it coming, wench," she sneered. "Kiss me and tell me you like it."

By that point, talking took quite an effort, but I wanted to keep up with her. Over the squishy sounds of her three fingers in my well-opened pussy, I panted, "I love it, you scoundrel." She never missed a beat as our mouths connected in a long, soulful kiss.

She used her other hand to squeeze my pink nipples at last, and to get them ready for a hard suck and a gentle nibble.

Woody kept me in bed all morning, making sure I was so ruined (and by a dyke at that) that I could never hope to marry a gentleman. This didn't trouble me at all, even when she threatened to tattoo her initials on my ass and make a dildo of wood or metal that would stretch my limits. I even completed my own corruption by crouching between her legs to taste her woman-juice and bring her to a wolfish frenzy.

I couldn't be sure I would never feel any real shame over what she had done to me, or what I had brought out in her. I knew we couldn't easily go back to being casual friends, connected only by a shared work history. On the other hand, I wasn't sure I wanted to be her girl forever.

In the heat of the moment, neither of us could see how our future would be different from our past. Sooner or later, everyone loses that cherry to the rogue called time.

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Copyright 2002 by Jean Roberta. Not to be reproduced without author's permission.