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The assignment was simple. ‘You had a dream. What was it?’ Ostensibly, it was an introduction to prose for college freshmen. It gave Sheri a chance to see who had talent and who didn’t. It was also one of Sheri’s ribald pleasures.
In the past she’d heard everything from childhood fantasies to aspirations for the future, both boring and lofty, and many that could only have been heavily drug induced. Frightening as it was, many were probably tales from real life. Once in a while, though, some brave soul would titillate everyone with a sexy story. These were Sheri’s favorites, and each year she hoped for something that she could copy and take to bed with her.
The ground rules were also simple, fair, and totally anonymous. One could make up anything they liked, without fear of embarrassment or reprisal.
Each had to be at least two pages in length and in any style the author chose. To further add to the anonymity, all submissions were to be e-mailed from a general account in the library. No one need ever know, if they chose to hide, who wrote what.
In reality, though, this wasn’t entirely true. Sheri could tell, by comparing writing styles of later works and a few other clues. She would soon know who wrote what. Giving them a false sense of anonymity, she’d learned long ago, brought out the true talent in those who had a gift. It was a sly ploy, and fraught with ulterior motives, but sound teaching none the less. The end justified the means, or so she rationalized to herself.
This year’s crop was of the usual sort, one was a boxer, another president, and still another was Cleopatra on her barge. The writing generally ranged from poor to acceptable, and Sheri was soon losing hope that anything special would arise. This all soon changed, for the sinfully delicious better, with the next three pages that she now had in her hand. This essay was marvelous, and so very dirty. Even the places that didn’t contain anything obscene left open the door to many smutty possibilities. She had to read the last two papers in her office the next morning. Thanks to these three pages, it had suddenly become a very busy night.
“I’ve read your work,” Sheri announced to her class. “Some were very good. And others were.... well, we have a long year ahead of us,“ she sighed. “As I usually do, I’d like to read some of those I found interesting. Then we can discuss some of the themes and literary devices before we jump into serious study.” The class groaned in mild opposition, but because she just had to know who wrote this dirty, dirty thing, she forged on.
“Here’s one I found particularly interesting,” her fingers clenched tighter on the paper. She still blushed when saying some of the things that were typed out on the pages in front of her. Courage, though, one must show courage as a teacher. She had to know.
She cleared her throat and read:
“I dreamed I was a showgirl in Vegas, in the early sixties. Back when the town was still alive with sins of all sorts,” she read with a flourish. “The Mob owned everything, of course, including me. I was beautiful in a land where mere beauty was nothing special.”
“Every night I bared most of my body for the sole purpose of making the guests want to gamble more. It was degrading, and I loved it. I was a toy for anyone who wanted to play with me, and could afford the price my owners set. After the shows, my hotel room would be filled with flowers and propositions. Some were from starry-eyed guests, but the ones that counted were the ones from the mobsters. They would ply me with gifts and money so they could use my body for their lewd and self-serving purposes, and I not only let them but I enjoyed it. I looked forward to it, in fact, for it made me useful in a town where everyone was expendable.” Sheri shifted in her chair ever so slightly, which was not entirely unnoticed by some in the class.
“On this particular night, I had just finished my show. My naked body was sweaty and what little costume I was allowed to wear was almost falling off me. I willingly stripped before all the other gorgeous women that I worked with. While I was showering, I paused just long enough to share a hot kiss with a brunette with a taste for women. She slid her fingers under my chin and turned my face towards her. With a knowing smile, she dipped her head, letting her lips cover mine. Intrigued, I drew her lower lip into my mouth, nibbling sensuously while I watched emotion come into her eyes. What the hell? My life was just one big party. Why not grab all I could, right?”
“I dressed and said my goodbyes for the night. Maybe I’d see one or two of the girls again before tomorrow, but even if I did we’d be busy by then and we all knew it.”
“Joey, they were all named Joey, caught me at the bar. This Joey was a short balding man who obviously thought his position required him to wear a three-piece suit, brutally knotted silk tie, and Old Spice after shave. I giggled at his jokes and batted my eyelashes on cue. Soon he was promising me the moon, and talked about my future in fairy tale terms. It was all part of the game. He invited me to a party in another hotel. He said I could meet some friends of his, producers who might take me to Hollywood with them. As usual, I didn’t buy any of this crap, but it always sounded so good. He bought me a few drinks, by the terms of The Big Mob Rule Book, and then we left in his big black Lincoln Town car.” Stopping there, she took a breath; more to see if anyone else knew where this was going, than anything else. It was always a dead giveaway with freshman.
“I spent the ride doubled over in the seat, his half inflated cock in my jaded mouth.” Shaking her head to show the proper amount of professional disgust, Sheri went on, “I worked him over like the pro I’d become. He did his part and pretended to enjoy it, while driving with the precision of a jet pilot. Ever the gentlemen, he waited while I’d retouched my smeared lipstick before we entered The Sands. Two extremely large men also in dark suits, showed us to a private elevator for the privileged. I winked at each as a form of tip, but Joey gave each of them cash.”
“In the elevator, Joey insisted that I strip down to my panties.” Sheri shifted again, for a second not caring who was watching, “It was like playing dress ups as a kid,” she went on, “with just as much consequence. In this town where the Devil was king, mere nudity was a cheap commodity.” That line still made her cheeks tingle a light crimson, even on the fourteenth reading.
“I was shown into a room full of leering eyes and groping hands. No one spoke directly to me, other than to ply me with more liquor or offer the most ignorant of advances. Men felt my body through my panties, both front and back, and generally handled me like the prized cow that I was.”
Sheri wanted so badly to scream, “Who the hell wrote this? I must know!”
“I did indeed see one of the girls from my dance troupe there. She was wearing only the feathered headdress that we had used a few weeks before. She was kneeling on the floor, a cock in her mouth and one in each hand, like some bawdy recreation of a crucifixion. Unconsciously I only felt a twinge of envy for the attention she was receiving.” The teacher in her was impressed with the vocabulary, even on the fourteenth reading.
“It wasn’t long before some genius wanted to see me down on my knees next to her. With the customary killer smile, I took my place on the floor, tossing my wet panties to the wolves waiting to be serviced. As they step forward and fed me their cocks, I took each load of man cum with glee, filling my empty belly with the only calories I would have today. I was in my own private glory.” ‘Speaking of private glory’, Sheri mused in the back of her mind with a smile.
“Before the wild ass circus was over, both my colleague and I were flat on our backs, all for the taking by the men who protected Sodom and Gomorra. ‘I lost count of the number of cocks I had in my holes and soon grew numb to the mixed pain and pleasure both. It was all just a game, and I was just a pawn. I awoke the next morning alone in my room, and sticky with that film of debauchery I loved so much. I showered for another day at the office,” Sheri loved that metaphor.
The classroom was deadly silent as Sheri finished reading. As she squirmed slightly in her chair again, she could feel the sopping cotton of her panties against her thigh. She looked at the clock and with a warning look, reminded her pupils that the class should end soon.
“Does the author wish to identify him or herself?” Sheri asked, biting her lip against hope. No one moved or uttered a sound.
There was one spark of recognition, however. A cold and intense stare made it’s way across the room, slapping Sheri in the face with its force. It sprang from the eyes of a beautiful young man, or so she thought of him on occasion. He kicked the bag of football gear at his feet, daring her to catch him. Sheri was shocked. It took several minutes for her to sort through the minefield of endless questions she knew she’d never get answers to.
“I dreamed I was a clown in a circus,” Sheri intoned, dropping her head into the next paper. The class giggled, desperate for a distraction. Sheri bit her lip and prayed she didn’t just start something. She loved this job, and it’s perks.