Making the Grade Ch. 01

Chapter 2

The first two weeks of school were unlike any other. The only thing that didn't seem unusual was that the weather had once again turned crappy. Cloudy and gray. That was Western Washington nine months out of every year. As far as school was concerned, I used to be able to wait for everyone to file out of a room, meander to my locker, use the restroom, and still be the first person to my next class. Now, I found myself navigating a human maze of girls who wanted to talk to me or just say "hi, Calvin!" The good news was the word was spreading that I preferred "Cal" and on more than one occasion a "groupie" was all too happy to correct a rival who didn't know the secret code. "He doesn't go by Calvin. He likes to be called 'Cal', don't you, Cal?" The first girl would roll her eyes at the second and I would just smile and slide on by only to run into the next group waiting for me. I suppose I should have been flattered but I found myself annoyed as hell with all the silly shallowness of these transparent hypocrites who wouldn't speak to me just six months ago. The one exception to that was anytime Mrs. Bentley and I passed one another and she spoke to me first. I realized I not only had a crush on her but I wanted to be with her. I wasn't sure what that meant because I was not only a virgin but hadn't even kissed... Sorry, I already mentioned that more than once.

I had one AP class with Glen and that was calculus. He was more than amused by all the recent attention and asked me if I could transfer just 10% of it his way. "Sorry man, but I don't think this is the kind of attention you want."

"How would you know what I want?" he said as he led interference down the hallway.

"Well, I know this. You're a good Mormon boy so you can only marry and therefore date, girls from your church. None of these phonies are LDS (the Mormons are The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints or "LDS" for short) so they're all off limits, right?"

"Yeah, I guess. But I wouldn't mind a date with Heather Mansfield!" he quipped as he told a small group of admirers that Cal was late for class.

"Heather Mansfield? Are you crazy? Just last year she told you how lucky you were to have me walk next to you so you could be the best looking guy in a group for a few minutes at a time. You want to go out with her?" I said with no small amount of incredulity.

"I guess not. But man, she's got some great boobs!" Glen said as he laughed his goofy laugh.

"I'm tellin' your bishop, Dude. You can't talk like that."

"Speaking of church, I'm giving a talk on Sunday. You wanna come listen?"

"Talks" were the Mormon version of sermons but without the hellfire and brimstone. Each week, different members of the congregation (a "ward" in Mormon speak) would give a short talk on a topic of their choosing. I didn't like church and didn't even believe in God but I went a couple of times a year just to support my best friend.

"Yeah. Sure. I'll tag along. Just don't be too long-winded, okay?"

Glen let out that laugh of his again. "No worries. You know talks rarely last more than 15 minutes and mine don't go over five."

As I pulled into the church parking lot I began looking around for women wearing the kind of stuff I like. Oh, yeah. I forgot to mention I have a fetish. I've got thing—actually a huge thing—for dressy, form-fitting sweaters. Not the baggy, granny type or the hideous Christmas sweater but pretty much anything that's sexy and shows off a woman's curves has my full attention. Don't get me wrong. I like dresses, lingerie, high heels, and that kind of stuff. God knows I've whacked off using scantily-clad lingerie models more times than I can count. But nothing "does it" for me like a sexy knit top. If it has a ribbed look to it, it gets extra points. And growing up near Seattle, it was definitely a target-rich environment.

My theory on fetishes is that we have certain periods of heightened sexual awareness. In those moments, something can sort of "imprint" itself and that image is seared into our brains. That's just my personal belief with no empirical data to support it, but I can remember seeing this beautiful blonde at a baseball game in a long-sleeved, white, rib-knit sweater. I couldn't stop staring and must have jerked off to that image a hundred times. Regardless of how fetishes are developed, they do. Not to was overly philosophical here but please allow me to scientifically sum it up like this: It is what it is.

I met Glen in the foyer. He was an usher and would be performing his duties soon. For now, we were just quietly talking as folks were filing in and out of the chapel. Just then I noticed his mom talking to someone I thought I recognized.

"Glen," I said interrupting him mid-sentence. "Who's that talking to your mom?"

Glen turned around, took a step to the side so he could get a better look and said, "Oh, that's Karen Moreland. She just graduated from BYU with her masters in some kind of science and she had a really great job offer in LA or something like that. Mom said she came back home to take care of her own mother because her dad just passed away from cancer a few months back and her mom's having a really hard time dealing with it."

Unaware I was staring, I mumbled, "Man! She is really pretty." And to myself I added, "And I want to everything her in that sweater!" It was a lot like the one my baseball girl wore. White, long-sleeved, with the ribbed look I loved and it absolutely showcased her fantastic boobs and hot body. The black skirt she wore with it was a little too long for my taste, but all Mormon girls wore skirts that were less than an inch above the knee and I told myself I could live with that. I admired what I could see of her shapely legs sticking out of the black heels she was wearing and only then did I see her staring back at me. Her stare distracted Glen's mom and I heard her say loudly enough for my benefit, "Oh, that's Glen's friend, Cal. He's here visiting today." She motioned for us to come over when I felt the first tinges of that familiar warmth rising up my neck and the first traces of sweat on the palms of my hands.

"Please, God. Don't let me turn red. Not this time. Not in front of her." It seemed silly to pray to someone I didn't believe but I convinced myself it couldn't hurt.

Mrs. Hairston met us and said, "Karen, you know my son, Glen. He's a senior this year!" They both shook hands. "And this is Cal, Glen's best friend since elementary school. If Glen was back from his mission, I'd be trying to fix you two up!" Karen seemed unfazed by the notion of being paired up with someone who was at least four integers below hers. She was easily a nine and Glen was perhaps a five on his best day. She was probably just being polite but since I understood next to nothing about women, I just let it pass.

Mrs. Hairston then announced, "Cal, this is Karen, who's a recent graduate of Brigham Young University. She majored in chemical engineering then went on to get her M.S. and now she's looking to earn her M.R.S. degree." Everyone but me laughed. Mrs. Hairston saw my puzzled look and explained. "Oh, sorry. That's a common saying among Latter-day Saints. Since marriage is the single most important thing for us, becoming a "misses" or "Mrs" is a very big deal. Karen seems to be taking a very long time getting hers."

I could see Karen was now a bit uncomfortable as she said, "It's not for lack of trying, Sister Hairston. I've met some decent guys, just not the right one yet." I couldn't be sure but I had that feeling her next comment was directed at me when she added, "Maybe I've been looking for love in all the wrong places?"

I felt the redness creep up into my cheeks but nothing too severe at this point as Karen extended her right hand to me and said, "Hi, Cal. It's a pleasure to meet you." Mormons are real hand shakers so it wasn't unusual for a woman to offer hers first. I wanted to wipe mine off before she touched it but I didn't have a chance. I'm sure she noticed the perspiration but didn't say anything about it or about my earlier staring and thankfully, not a word about my rosy cheeks.

"Cal, did you know Karen used to babysit Glen?" Mrs. Hairston bubbled. Now it was Glen's turn to feel the heat. That's when I realized where I'd seen her. She'd also kept an eye on me when I visiting at Glen's house one weekend. I wondered if she even remembered the chubby kid with the bucked teeth. God, I hoped not!

"Mom. Sheesh. That was a long time ago," Glen countered.

"Oh, nonsense, sweetheart! It couldn't have been that long ago. Karen's still a young girl herself after all."

Karen accepted the off-handed compliment quite well and said, "Thank you Sister Hairston. I am almost 28, but I suppose that's still young by some standards." I realized that time had different meanings to people of different ages as I caught myself staring at Karen again. Or more accurately, at her two beautiful sweater puppets.

Karen just smiled when I realized she knew I was unaware that she was aware of my fixed gaze. She pretended to glance down at her chest and said with a smile, "Oh, good. I thought maybe I'd spilled some food there or something."

I didn't turn crimson, but I could feel that redness spreading across that old familiar landscape. I excused myself and turned toward the chapel when I felt a hand slide in to hook my arm. "I'm really sorry, Cal. I didn't mean to embarrass you. I was actually very flattered. Please don't feel bad, okay? I'm guessing most girls would hope you'd, you know, look at them like that. I'm a Mormon girl but I'm also human." Before I could respond she said to Glen who was now watching the chapel doors, "Would you guys mind if I sit with you today? I've been gone almost eight years and I feel like I hardly know anyone. My mom isn't feeling well today and I really don't want to sit alone."

Glen looked at me and saw how her arm was hooked under mine and said, "Sure. That'd be great. I'll join you in a few minutes."

As we sat down, Karen slid in first and as I sat next to her she said, "We're having a church dance here next weekend. I love to dance and as I said I don't really know anyone here anymore..." She trailed off as a guy about her age walked past with his wife and two young children. "Well, that is I don't know anyone who isn't already married. So if you're interested could we maybe go together if it's not too weird hanging out with someone you know, my age?" She wasn't as beautiful as Mrs. Bentley whom I gave a perfect "ten" but Karen was indeed very good looking and I was discovering I liked older girls. In fact, it was becoming clear I really liked women who were older than me.

I finally got up the nerve to look at her just as I was feeling the urge to blush was finally getting under control. She was stunningly beautiful. Deep blue eyes and very dark brown hair parted on the side and that was about shoulder length with a single, soft wave in it. I could now smell her perfume, too, and as our eyes met, she smiled at me the way so many other girls had recently done. For the first time I felt a small surge of confidence as I told her, "Sure. I'd like that—very much." She reached out and briefly took my hand in hers and said, "Wonderful! Pick me up at 8 o'clock? Give me your cell phone and I'll type in my number. I'll text you the address."

I didn't hear a word that was said during the entire hour we were inside. I had no earthly idea what the topic of Glen's talk was and I hoped it wouldn't come up. Afterwards, Karen walked outside with me and she said, "I know it's the 21st century but we Mormons are really traditional. I've never asked a guy out before and now I'm wondering if maybe you only said 'yes' because you felt pressured. I know I'm a lot older than you and it would probably be really embarrassing to show up with..."

I stopped her in mid-sentence. "Embarrassed? Are you kidding? I'd be honored to be with you. It's you who'll probably feel kind of silly when you finally realize you're out with a high-school kid."

Karen put her hand on my forearm. "I can promise you that won't be the case. You don't look like any kid I've ever seen and honestly, if you're over 18, age doesn't matter to me. All I care about is whether a guy will be treat me well so I don't care if you're 18 or 38. And...it doesn't hurt if the guy is really hot, either."

The smile that accompanied her final comment just about did me in but I kept it together and smiled back saying, "Okay. It's a date. I'll pick you up Saturday at 8 o'clock. Oh, before I forget, what does one wear to a Mormon church dance?" I asked her.

"Oh, right! I completely forgot you're not a member of the Church. Coat and tie is the norm for guys, and since you brought it up, is there anything in particular you'd like me to wear?"

I knew I should just say, "Whatever you like is fine," but my fetish was rearing its ugly head in a very big way. Instead I told Karen, "Honestly, I'm a very big fan of what you're wearing today. I wanted to say this earlier but it just didn't seem appropriate until now. You look amazing, Karen. So something like that maybe?"

"Thank you, Cal! How sweet is that? And it's a deal. Skirt and sweater it is! See you Saturday!"

I looked up and said to myself, "Thank you, God!" I was still an atheist, but if these kinds of prayers could be so easily answered...

Chapter 3

The week drug on for what seemed like an eternity. What caught my attention was the way girls were no longer queued up to say "hi" to me but were now turning their backs as I walked by preceded by noses being raised and heads flipped back. A couple of times I clearly heard, "He is SO stuck up!" When the bell rang, I heard something similar from two girls in my organic chemistry class followed by a lot of giggling accompanied by some quiet mocking consisting of, "My name isn't Calvin, bitch! Don't you know anything?"

That final comment came on the way out of Mrs. Bentley's class on Thursday afternoon. She heard it as clearly as I did and motioned for me to stay after class. As the last kids filed out, she closed the door and said, "Looks like being the best looking guy in school comes with a price if you don't choose one of your ladies in waiting. You okay with all this, Cal?"

"Sure. It's okay. I get it. Well, kind of. I mean if I started dating Heather or someone else, then the other girls would accept that and leave me alone. But by 'rebuffing' all of them, I must be stuck up. I even heard some guys saying I must be gay yesterday."

"Are you?" Mrs. Bentley asked. She hurriedly added, "Sorry. That's none of my business. I just meant..."

"No, I'm not gay. In fact, I finally have my first date this weekend and it's most definitely with a girl."

"That's amazing, Cal! Who's the lucky girl? Do I know her by any chance?"

"Oh, no. She's been away at college for several years so..."

"A college girl? My, my! So that's why you're breaking all these high-school hearts! Now it makes sense. You like 'older women', huh?"

Mrs. Bentley was just playfully teasing me. That much was clear. What she didn't know is how much I wanted her to be my date this weekend, but I'd ploughed that ground enough to know there was nothing growing there. It was fallow ground for sure.

"I guess so. In fact, I sort of just figured that out. I said 'yes' to Karen's invitation but there's another girl, er, woman, I've wanted to ask out for quite a while but I know I don't have a chance with her. Besides, she's already kind of spoken for." I looked away as I finished speaking as I both hoped and feared she might know I was talking about her.

"Cal? Do you remember me telling you that you could have any girl you want? If you haven't asked her how do you know she won't say yes? Relationships are often complicated and aren't always what they seem. She could possibly be ready for someone new but maybe that someone hasn't come along and let it be known he's interested. Try dropping a subtle hint and see how it goes. What's the worst that can happen?"

"It's just really complicated, Mrs. Bentley. If there was any way I thought I could compete with the guy she's with I'd ask her but she's in a, well, committed relationship and from what I can tell, it seems like she's really happy."

"Cal, I'm not going to go into any detail here but I can tell you from personal experience that many times a woman is deeply unhappy but stays with someone for a variety of reasons. That doesn't mean she's happy and it definitely doesn't mean she can't be persuaded. It just means she might need to see the grass really might be greener on the other side or at least no less brown than it is with the other guy. Let her know. See what happens, okay? And you still haven't told me who the lucky girl is!"

"She's a girl I met at Glen's church this weekend. Her name is Karen and she just finished a master's program in organic chemistry at BYU."

"Are you a Mormon too, Cal?" Mrs. Bentley asked with a serious look.

"No. I don't go to any church. I just went with Glen because he was giving a short sermon kind of thing and his mom introduced me to Karen."

"BYU? Karen? Would that be Karen Moreland by any chance?"

The look of genuine surprise was all over my face. "You know her, Mrs. Bentley?"

"I do. She was my student about, oh let me see, maybe ten years ago or so. Beautiful girl. I see why you like her. And smart, too. She was one of the best chemistry students I ever had. Then again, you're every bit as good as she was, Cal. I think you'll have a lot in common in spite of the difference in age. So where are you taking her on your first-ever date if you don't mind me asking?"

"We're going to a dance at her church this Saturday. I've never been to a dance of any kind let alone one where I have to wear a tie, so I'm a little nervous about not embarrassing her or myself. But then, I've never been on a date, either, for that matter so I guess I'll just have to learn as I go."

"In addition to being the school's AP advisor I also teach dance club after school during the winter. If you'd like a fast-and-furious beginner's lesson, I'd be happy to offer my services!"

My mind was suddenly reeling at the thought. Me dancing with Mrs. Bentley? I was already jerking off every day and sometimes twice a day thinking about her, and now I had the opportunity to hold the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen in my arms. Fuck me!!

But that same old voice inside my head wouldn't let me accept her offer. Instead of saying "yes" and thanking her I said, "Oh, I have a lot of homework to do and I mean, I'm sure you're really busy and stuff so..."

Mrs. Bentley let out a rather loud "hah!" and feigned a laugh. "Too busy? Hardly. Other work, my life is pretty much empty now that my son just ran off and joined the damn Navy. I almost dread heading home to an empty house every evening. So no, I'm definitely not too busy. But if you have that much homework, then, I guess you just do."

I felt sick to my stomach. I was sure she knew I was just making an excuse but I couldn't bring myself to tell her how I felt. Instead, I just avoided the subject and said, "I didn't know Brandon enlisted. He just graduated in June, right?"

"That's right. He said he had no interest in going to college and his father told him he'd have to get a job and pay rent if he didn't go to school. So he went straight to the nearest recruiter and signed up. He just left for boot camp last week." She almost hissed when she said the words "his father" as though she was talking about someone she didn't much like let alone love and live with.

It looked as if Mrs. Bentley might be tearing up and I had no idea what to say to comfort her. Like the clueless kid I was, I simply blurted out, "But you still have your husband so it's not like you're all alone, right?"