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Subject: {ASSM} AnnD"The Freshman"MF(1/2)
Date: Sun, 9 Jul 2000 02:11:17 -0400
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The Freshman
by Ann Douglas
(ann_douglas@hotmail.com)
Thanks once again to Mordmorgan who helps find and
correct my grammatical errors. Any that are left
are my fault not his.
Part One
Whitney Pennington paused outside the
classroom and took a deep breath. Like so many
other college freshman, the short haired blond
found her first day of classes at Northern
California State a rushing kaleidoscope of sights
and sounds. One which, at times, seemed
overwhelming.
She didn't think it possible, but her heart
was racing even faster than it had been when she
woke up this morning. Too nervous to even try
and have breakfast, she'd settled for just a cup of
tea to settle her nerves. Whitney couldn't
remember the last time she had spent picking out
clothes as she had last night. She finally settled on
a rather simple yellow blouse and blue skirt. First
impressions were always the most important, or
so she remembered her mother saying while she
was growing up. Not for the first time today, the
tall woman wondered if this whole college thing
might have been a mistake.
"It's just nerves," Whitney said to herself
as she took a second deep breath to calm herself.
"I'm sure every college freshman goes through the
same thing."
With that, she stepped through the door
and into her afternoon history class. What she
didn't say to herself was the fact that most nervous
freshmen weren't fifty-one years old.
The buzz of conversation stopped for a
moment as she stepped into the room. The same
thing had happened in English Literature earlier in
the day. Most of the eighteen and nineteen year
olds mistakenly assumed that she was the
Professor and stopped what they were doing.
This time, rather than add to the confusion,
Whitney quickly moved to the closest empty seat
and sat down. This brought a new topic to the
conversations as they realized that she was also a
student.
A few minutes later, the actual History
Professor walked into the room. To Whitney's
surprise, even she was at least twenty years
younger than the new freshman. She introduced
herself as Professor Rodriquez and welcomed
them to Late Twentieth Century History.
Whitney listened intently as the Instructor
outlined the syllabus for the semester, taking notes
of the highlights. The more she listened, the more
Whitney thought she was going to like this class.
She had always been fascinated by history. If
things had gone differently in her life, she might
have considered becoming a teacher herself.
But as someone once said much better
than she ever could, life was what happened when
you were busy making other plans. Whitney had
found herself pregnant the summer following high
school graduation and back in those days, there
was no consideration of not getting married. In
1965, the sexual revolution had yet to come to
Greenridge Falls.
As bad as her situation seemed back then,
the seventeen year old had it a lot better than the
last two girls in town who found themselves in the
same predicament. Whitney loved the father of
her child, and he loved her. Stephen Pennington
had been her very best friend practically since
kindergarten. No one even raised an eyebrow
when they rushed to the altar.
What followed was three plus decades of
married life that saw two more children added to
the fold. It was an almost perfect life, one which
only ended, in the words of the minister so long
ago, "till death do you part."
At fifty, Whitney found herself a widow
with three grown children, two of whom were
married. To that, she could add three
grandchildren, a newborn girl and two teenage
boys. Her oldest son, Jack, had grown up working
in the family business and easily took over when
her husband died.
After a year of just keeping herself busy,
Whitney had mentioned to her daughter Diane
that she was thinking of talking a few courses at
the local University. Something to pass the time
and indulge some of her interests. The youngest
of her children immediately thought it was a great
idea and encouraged her to enroll the very next
semester.
"You'll love it," the twenty-six year old
accountant had said. "You'll have a lot of fun, and
think of all the cute guys you'll meet there," she
had laughingly added.
Whitney had to laugh as well. Ever since
she had hit puberty, Diane had boys on the brain.
If you compared photos of Whitney and Diane
each at sixteen, you would've thought them sisters
rather than mother and daughter. Just as tall as
Whitney, Diane had inherited her bust as well. A
fact that wasn't lost on the boys in her high school.
Her hair was a darker blond than her mother's, but
they both had a perpetually cheerful face.
"Sure, I can see them now all lining up to
date the old lady," Whitney had laughed in return.
"After all, just think how popular someone who
can walk into a liquor store and buy beer can be."
Joking aside, Whitney had agreed with her
daughter and enrolled for a few courses. Aside
from a few moments of hesitation, it had so far
been a good experience. By the end of both the
class and Professor Rodriquez's introduction, the
older woman was glad she hadn't chickened out.
Something she had considered a few times.
"Excuse me," a voice from behind
Whitney said as the classroom was emptying out.
"Are you really a student in this class?"
Whitney turned to face the owner of the
voice. A young, clean shaven man with black hair
and a baby face. A few inches taller than Whitney,
he had the look of an athlete about him.
"Yes I am," Whitney said in a tone that
was a little defensive, "believe it or not, I'm a
Freshman."
"Oh I didn't mean anything by it," the
young man, who Whitney estimated was no more
than nineteen, said as he quickly caught the
defensive nature of the older woman's tone. "I
just thought you might be someone auditing the
class, that's all."
"I guess I am being a little defensive,"
Whitney said in a kinder voice. "Let's start over.
I'm Whitney Pennington."
"David Jordan," he said with a warm and
wide smile. "It's nice to meet you."
"And it's nice to meet you, David Jordan,"
Whitney smiled back. "What can I do for you?"
"Well, I asked if you were really a student
because if you were, I was wondering if you've
given any thought to a study partner for the
course?"
"A study partner?" Whitney repeated.
"Yeah, there's a lot of reading in this
course and I figured that it would be a lot easier if
I had a partner," David went on. "History's never
been my best subject and I admit I could use the
help. When I saw you I figured you might be a
good choice."
"Who better than someone who's lived
most of the history that the course covers, right?"
Whitney said.
"Oh, I didn't mean it like that," the young
man quickly said. "I just saw how you were
taking so many notes and figured that you were
someone who was going to take this course
seriously. Most of the students take this class just
to fill the history requirement. I hope to do better
than just squeak through."
"Why don't we have a cup of coffee and
talk about it?" Whitney suggested. "That is if you
don't have another class or anything more pressing
at the moment."
"That would be nice," David smiled.
As they walked out of the classroom,
Whitney felt that despite their age difference, she
had just made a new friend. Not a bad start for
her college career.
David, as it turned out, was older than
Whitney had first assumed. A sophomore and
already twenty-one, he was getting a late start on
college life as well. But not as late a start as
Whitney, the older woman had laughed.
A star pitcher on his high school baseball
team, David had originally planned to go to
college on an athletic scholarship. An injury to his
shoulder in his senior year had cost him that
chance. His arm had since healed, but he'd never
regained the speed or accuracy that might have
been his ticket to the majors.
Determined to still get an education, the
dark haired young man had gone to work and
saved every penny he could to pay his way. Then,
finally, David had managed to get enough of a
non-athletic scholarship to make up the difference
and here he was.
* * * * * * *
Over the next two months, David and
Whitney became good friends. Most times it was
easy for Whitney to forget that she was old
enough to be David's mother. A frequent visitor
to the Pennington household, David struck up a
friendship with Diane as well. For a while her
maternal instinct took hold and Whitney hoped the
friendship between the two young people might
lead to something more. But it quickly became
apparent that friendship was as far as it was going
to go.
Midterm exams appeared on the horizon
before they knew it, and Professor Rodriquez
lived up to her reputation as one of the hardest
graders on campus. When the grades were
posted, only a third of the students in her class had
passed. Of that third, Whitney and David had the
eighth and tenth highest grades, respectively.
"We need to go out and celebrate," David
said as he read off the posted grades to Whitney
over the telephone late that afternoon.
"I'm afraid my celebrating days are a little
behind me," Whitney said as she tried to imagine
the wild partying that would be going on in the
dorms following all the stress of exam week.
"You go and have fun, and then you can tell me all
about it."
"It won't be any fun without you," David
countered. "I'd have never have passed that test
without your help."
What had appeared to be a joke the day
he'd asked Whitney to be his study partner, had
instead turned out to be their secret edge in class.
Having lived many of the events they talked about
in class, Whitney brought a personal perspective
to the lessons. It was a whole lot easier to learn
something when you thought of it as something
more than a bunch of lifeless facts and figures
from a book.
"Well you helped me enough with my
math course," Whitney replied. "It was payment
enough for you to tutor me in a class you took last
year. Trust me, I'd be really out of place at the
dorm parties."
"Forget about the dorm party then,"
David said. "Let me take you out to dinner, I owe
you that at least."
"Well," Whitney hesitated. "I guess that
would be all right. But nothing too fancy or
expensive. I know you can't afford to just throw
money away."
"Great, how about tonight?" David asked
excitedly. "I could pick you up about eight."
"Well that is a little short notice," Whitney
mused. "But I guess tonight would be fine. Why
don't you let me make the reservations?"
David was so excited that he quickly
agreed. That pleased Whitney as she had already
decided to make the reservations at Alberto's.
The owner was an old friend and would be more
than happy to make sure that the bill David got in
no way reflected the actual cost of the meal.
Whitney would pay the difference herself.
"You going out?" Diane asked as she
stepped into the kitchen and heard her Mother on
the phone with the owner of Alberto's.
"Why yes," Whitney replied. "David
wants to thank me for helping him with his
midterms by taking me out to dinner."
"Just dinner, huh?" Diane said.
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
"Oh come on, Mom," Diane said as she
sat down in the adjacent chair, "you can't tell me
you haven't noticed the way he looks at you."
"Don't be ridiculous," Whitney said. "I'm
old enough to be his mother."
"But you're not," Diane countered, "and
some guys are turned on by things like that."
"You can't think he's considering this a real
date?" Whitney said.
"Maybe," Diane mused, "maybe not. But
I think you should ask yourself if you consider it a
date."
"What?" Whitney said in surprise. "You
can't be serious. He's twenty-one years old for
goodness sake."
"Last time I looked, that was legally an
adult, and then some," Diane grinned.
"Okay, enough is enough," the older
woman said. "This is just two friends going out to
dinner. That's it."
"If you say so," Diane finally said in an
unbelieving voice. "But I'll make sure I knock
before waking you up in the morning," she
laughed.
With the sound of her laughter still in the
air, Diane turned and left the kitchen, leaving her
mother even more confused. In the beginning, the
fifty-one year old thought her daughter was just
joking, then realized that her youngest was quite
serious in her suggestions.
Whitney poured the last of her coffee into
the sink and rinsed out the cup. Whatever wild
fantasies her daughter's imagination might conjure
up, Whitney had made a dinner date in a few
hours and she had to get ready for it. Dropping
the coffee cup into the dishwasher, she headed
upstairs to shower and change.
Fifteen minutes later, wrapped in a large
white bathrobe, Whitney stepped out of the
shower, her body still warm from the heat of the
water against her skin. She stepped into her
bedroom and sat down at the vanity.
Whitney sat there for a few moments,
looking at her reflection in the large mirror. Try
as she could, the blond couldn't get her daughter's
comments out of her mind. If nothing else, her
words had highlighted the absence of sexual
satisfaction in her life.
Since her husband's passing, Whitney had
only gone out on a few dates, mostly with friends
that had also been friends of her husbands. Of
these, only one had ended in any sexual activity.
She remembered it as being a less than fulfilling
experience. At least compared to those she had
shared with her husband.
Brushing her hair, Whitney wouldn't have
been human if she didn't consider how it might
feel to actually act out Diane's fantasy. Many a
night she had played with herself as she ran
fantasies through her mind. The image of the dark
haired young man filled the center of the mirror
before her as she absentmindedly slipped her hand
beneath the fold of her robe and stroked the nipple
of her breast. A nipple she found erect and hard.
Allowing herself to drift along in the
fantasy, Whitney pulled open her robe to allow
greater access to her breasts. Dropping her
hairbrush onto the vanity, the blond took hold of
her other breast as well, her fingers caressing the
hard tip.
Whitney had always loved the touch of
soft hands on her mounds, be it her own or that of
a lover. Nature had been kind to her, gifting her
with breasts that were just large enough to be
sexually attractive yet also small and firm enough
to have successfully endured her years.
Deeper into the fantasy her mind wandered
as one of her hands slid from her breast to down
between her legs. There to find, despite having
just come from the shower, her pubic mound was
moist with arousal. Her fingers gently probed
within, sending a small tingle inside her.
She closed her eyes and let out a small
sigh, picturing in her mind's eyes what David
might look like nude. How his body might feel
pressed against her own. His hard young cock
between her legs, buried deep within her.
"Mom ..." came Diane's voice from the
doorway of her mother's bedroom.
Snapped out of her erotic musings by the
sound of her daughter's voice, Whitney quickly
closed her robe. She hoped Diane hadn't noticed
what she'd been doing in the reflection of the
mirror.
If Diane had noticed the image in the glass,
she gave no indication. Whitney turned in her
chair to face her, her hands holding her robe
tightly closed. Dismissing the last of the carnal
imagery from her thoughts, the older woman
asked her daughter if something was the matter.
"I just wanted to apologize," Diane said
as she stopped at the edge of the vanity. "I think I
might've upset you by what I said in the kitchen."
"There's no need to apologize," Whitney
smiled at her youngest. "I think I might 've
overreacted a little. I actually thought you were
serious."
"Oh I was serious," Diane said
unexpectedly. "I really do think a little fling might
do you a world of good. What I'm apologizing
for is trying to press you into it. That's something
that you should decide on your own."
"You could really see me having a fling
with a twenty-one year old boy?" Whitney asked.
"I could see you having a fling with a
twenty-one year old man," Diane replied,
stressing the last word. "I think you deserve to
have some adventure in your life. And I know, as
sure as I'm standing here, that Dad would've felt
the same way."
"You really think that?" Whitney asked.
"You really think your father would want me to
bed a man younger than any of our children?"
So intent was Diane on answering her
mother, she totally missed the fact that David had
been upgraded in her mother's question from boy
to man.
"I know that he'd want you to be happy
with anyone who made you feel good," Diane
countered. "You can't tell me you don't enjoy
being with David. And not in the same way as
you enjoy being with Jack, Billy or me."
With that, Diane left her mother alone
once more.
When she thought about it, Whitney had
to admit she did enjoy the time she spent with the
younger man. When they were alone, it was easy
to forget the difference in their ages. In fact, there
were times when the twenty-one year old seemed
more a mature adult then a number of the men
currently in her social circle.
"Oh Steve," Whitney asked quietly of the
framed photograph on her dresser. "What do you
think I should do?"
Of course no answer was forthcoming
from the smiling face of her husband, frozen
forever in time. But as she looked into the rich
blue of her lost love's eyes, it suddenly occurred to
Whitney why she got along so well with David.
In all the ways that counted, he reminded her so
much of Steve Pennington.
"Mom, David is here," Whitney heard
Diane call from the bottom of the stairs an hour
later.
Taking a final look at herself in the mirror,
Whitney said that she would be right down.
"She'll be right down," Diane repeated to
David when she walked back into the living room.
"Can I get you something while you're waiting?"
"No, I'm fine," David said with a smile.
Diane took a good long look at David,
decked out in what had to be his best suit. She
had to say, he was looking pretty good. If she
couldn't convince her mother that he'd be a good
thing for her, the twenty-six year old was tempted
to find out how good herself.
"I hope I didn't keep you waiting too
long," Whitney said as she stepped into the room.
David turned and was about to say not at
all, but was struck almost speechless at the sight
of his date for the evening. An almost silent wow
was all he could manage.
Diane was surprised by her mother's
appearance as well. It had been a long time since
she'd seen her dressed like this. The rich red dress
she wore had been sitting in the back of her closet
since before her Dad had died. Whitney had
bought it for their twenty-fifth anniversary party.
It was low cut enough to show off her still
impressive bust, but proper enough to be
respectable. Around her neck she was wearing
the string of pearls that once belonged to her
grandmother. It was a testament to how well she
took care of herself that Whitney could still wear
it after all this time.
"Shall we get going?" Whitney asked as
she picked up her purse from a small side table.
"The reservations were for eight."
"Have fun you two," Diane called out as
she watched them walk out the door. "Don't do
anything I wouldn't do," she added in a much
lower voice.
Whitney paused and looked back, giving
her daughter a cautious look.
* * * * * * *
"Mrs. Pennington, how nice to see you
again," Salvatore Alberto beamed when he
spotted Whitney coming through the front door of
his restaurant. "It's been far too long."
"Thank you, Salvatore," Whitney said
with a warm smile. "Has everything been
arranged as I asked?"
David was greatly surprised that Whitney
had spoken to Mr. Alberto in flawless Italian.
"Of course," the seventy-two year old
owner smiled. "Everything is as you requested,
my dear. I can guarantee that you and your ...."
The old man paused for a moment, unsure
of how to refer to her escort. Over the years he
had seen a long procession of patrons requesting a
quiet dinner with an equally long line of nephews,
nieces and younger cousins.
"Friend will do, Salvatore," Whitney filled
in the blank.
"Ah yes," he grinned knowingly. "I have
personally selected a nice table in the corner..."
"No table in the corner, Salvatore," the
blond interrupted. "I'm just having dinner with a
classmate. There's no need to give anyone any
reason to think it's anything more."
"Not a problem, my dear," Salvatore
replied, used to making sudden changes for old
customers. "Dominic, please escort Mrs.
Pennington and her guest to table four," he said
to the waiter at his elbow.
"Is there a problem?" David asked
Whitney, unable to follow the conversation in
Italian.
"Not at all," Whitney explained. "Mr.
Alberto and I are old friends. We were just
talking a moment to catch up, that's all."
"Oh," David replied as he followed
Whitney and Dominic to their table.
The conversation over dinner was almost
better than the food, which as always was first
rate. Whitney couldn't remember the last time she
had enjoyed herself more. Certainly not with the
last two men she'd been to dinner with.
"That was a great meal," David said as he
gently pushed the now empty plate away from
him. "I really enjoyed it."
"Yes it was," Whitney agreed. "it was
almost as good as the company."
David blushed at the compliment. A look
of embarrassment that threatened to become all
too real as Dominic appeared at his side. In his
hand he held a small leather folder containing the
check.
David figured this little celebration was
going to take all of his emergency cash. Now that
it was over, he didn't really mind.
His eyes lit up as he saw the total at the
bottom of the check. It had to be an error.
Now it was Whitney's turn to ask if there
was something wrong.
"No, nothing's wrong," David said, a grin
on his face. "In fact, I think everything's pretty
right."
Whitney just smiled as he paid the bill.
(missing parts may be found at)
Ann Douglas Web Page
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Ann_Douglas/www/
ASSTR Donation Page
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/donations.html
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